Have Some Coffee
by late2bbparty
Summary: Series of one shots surrounding Booth, friends, family & caffeine. Some will be happy, some sad because that's life. Most of the Bones family will make an appearance at some point.
1. Aubrey

A/N: This was originally going to be a one shot. After I posted incorrectly (I'm new at this), I got the idea for a series. This chapter takes place sometime after season 12, episode 1. Inspiration from the opening sequence of season 6 "The Shallow in the Deep".

I don't have any claim to Bones.

On a bright sunny, Saturday James Aubrey was almost half way through his 14 mile training run when it all went south. He had been happily chugging along at a steady pace allowing himself to be lost in the rhythm of his breathing and thoughts of a certain red headed anthropologist when he stepped in a pothole, twisting his ankle. "Damnit!" he thought as he staggered and narrowly avoided a face plant on the pavement. He regained his balance and gingerly stepped on his sore foot, testing the damage. It held his weight and wasn't tooooo painful, but he recognized that his run was over for the day unless he wanted to risk further injury. He was also further away from home than he wanted to walk on a sore foot. He had his cell phone, but Jessica was at a seminar this morning. He debated calling other friends to his rescue, but figured out he was only about a quarter mile from the Booth/Brennan household and with a little help from the Mini Booth, he could probably parlay his injury into pancakes or French Toast. Smiling at his new plan, he changed direction toward their place.

He rang the doorbell 5 minutes later. Dr. B greeted him with baby Hank on her hip. "Uncle Aubrey" shouted Christine as she launched herself in his direction. He swung her up into a quick hug. "Ugh! You're all wet" she said. "Yea, sorry about that. And sorry to drop by like this Dr. B, but I twisted my ankle on my training run. Was hoping Agent Booth could give me a lift home."

"He probably can when he awakens, it's his Saturday to sleep in" said Dr. B. motioning him to enter the house. "But he needs to wake up soon because I'm hungry" said Christine.

"You are training for the Marine Corps Marathon is that correct?" Brennan asked as she headed towards the laundry room.

"Yes, I tried to get Booth to join me but his response was that if God had wanted us to run 26 miles He wouldn't have invented cars."

"Well it's 26.2 miles Aubrey, and Karl Benz is credited with the invention of the automobile. In any case, it is highly unlikely that Booth could withstand the rigors of running a marathon. Here, put these on." She handed him a pair of Booths sweat pants and a T-shirt. "You'll get chilled in your damp clothes. Go change and we'll get you an ice pack for your calcaneous.

Aubrey was a little confused by her comment as he walked to the bathroom to follow orders. Booth had no trouble passing the FBI fitness tests. And while he often teased Booth about his age, but he had no doubts that the senior agent could kick his ass if he desired, although Aubrey would inflict some damage as well. They were about the same height Booth had about 50 pounds on Aubrey, most of it muscle. This was emphasized as he put on the dry clothes. He felt ridiculous - the T-shirt was 2 sizes too big and if the sweats hadn't had a drawstring they'd be down around his ankles. He walked out of the bathroom intending to ask for clarification when Booth walked into the kitchen.

Walked was not actually the appropriate word. He shuffled, hunched over like a 90 year old, grimacing with every step. Still half asleep, he didn't notice Aubrey there, intent on getting to the coffee pot. Aubrey was about to ask what the hell happened to him when he felt Christine tug on his hand. He looked down to see the Mini B holding a finger to her lips. He glanced over at Dr. B and she shook her head ever so slightly. Booth stiffly reached for a cup, and turned it upright on the counter. He tried reaching for the pot but stopped midway.

Leaning on the counter, he rolled the toes under on first one foot than the other. His brightly colored socks muffled some of the cracking sounds, but Aubrey still winced at the sounds of joints popping. The knees came next, then the back and the neck. Each pop was accompanied by a small grunt of pain. Moving a little less stiffly, he stretched his arms in front with fingers interlaced. Knuckles and shoulders creaked in protest. Then the feet again, plus a couple circles of the ankles. Finally he rolled his shoulders a couple of times, exhaled and then grabbed the pot. He filled his mug and took a quick hit of caffeine. Evidently that was the cue that it was now safe to approach since Christine ran towards him - "DADDY!" He leaned down to hug her smiling, as she grabbed his leg he tousled her hair. "Good morning Princess! Good morning Tiger" he said reaching for his son, while kissing his wife. It was then noticed Aubrey and his smile faltered a bit. Aubrey desperately wanted to find a rock to crawl under. Aubrey counted himself as one of Booth's small circle of friends but he had no doubt that the morning bone cracking was a ritual that his partner would have liked to keep private.

Thankfully Christine began to chatter non stop reciting the activities of her morning, including the description of Aubrey's misfortune. This required her daddy's full attention to respond appropriately. Dr. B used the diversion to get Aubrey settled on the couch with an ice pack and a cup of coffee. As breakfast preparations were started, the merits of French toast vs. pancakes were discussed. Christine successfully lobbied for pancakes. That decided, the next topic of discussion between Booth and the little girl was whether or not doubling the recipe would be enough since Uncle Aubrey was joining them. Aubrey made a token protest about not eating as much as everyone seemed to think. However, no one, including himself, really bought it. Christine assisted in making the batter and then carefully supervised her father as he cooked.

Breakfast was a lively affair. Dr. B. was teaching Christine German so they were identifying all the items on the table, Booth and Aubrey discussed sports and motorcycles-Aubrey was thinking of buying one and Booth was trying unsuccessfully to contain his jealousy. Hank was just learning to feed himself with varying degrees of success. He was further along in his mastery of food throwing. The bowl of fruit and platter of pancakes were soon empty. Feeling very full, Aubrey declared his ankle well enough for dish duty. Booth "de syruped" Hank while Dr. B helped Christine with her hair. Once both kids were clean, Christine entertained Hank by building block towers for him to knock down, and while Booth was getting dressed, Dr. B came to help with the clean up. Unable to contain himself any longer he asked "Does Booth always move like that in the morning?"

"Not always". His momentary relief at the answer disappeared when she continued "it depends on how long he sleeps. He didn't wake up in the middle of the night last night, so the build up of synovial gas was higher than usual."

"So, the longer he sleeps the more pain he's in when he wakes up?"

"Yes."

"That seems like a lousy trade off."

"With all the broken bones Booth has sustained in his life, it is rather remarkable that he's still able to be as physically active as he is. Although there is little doubt in my mind that some of his physical capabilities are a direct result of his stubborn personality trait."

Aubrey turned back to the dishes lost in thought. He had to agree with Dr. B's assessment of her husbands stubbornness. He thought back to the info that Sweets had given him when they were working to get Booth out of prison. Sweets had thought that if Aubrey understood Booth more, he'd work harder to clear his name, so had shared his file and manuscript on Booth and Brennan. Most of it was psychological mumbo jumbo, but there had been some notations of medical leaves of absence. Sweets had also noted that Booth had an abusive alcoholic father and had suffered physical and mental trauma during his time in the army but that the agent had never discussed his life prior to joining the FBI in detail. All those notations were one thing on paper but seeing the results in person was another matter entirely.

He recalled several late nights at the Hoover building where Booth would lean against his desk or sit on the edge of the conference table rather than continue to stand. On those occasions, the senior agent would flex his feet repeatedly. Aubrey had attributed the movement to Booth's overall fidgety nature, but now understood that the agent was trying to relieve the pain in his feet. There were also times after long hours of sitting that Booth was slow to stand. He'd shrug it off to a tough workout that morning if anyone commented on it. Aubrey thought back to last month when a suspect had tried to run away. The agents had cornered him in an alley when he went on the offensive. A few punches were dodged, a few more hit their mark before the suspect was subdued. The next morning, Aubrey was a little sore and Booth was exceptionally short tempered. Aubrey had figured that the irritation was due to letting the perp even lead them on a chase but it was more likely his mentor had been in pain.

Dr. B. interrupted his thoughts. "Aubrey, I hope that is not pity that I'm reading in your expression, I am well aware that nonverbal communication is not one of my strengths. But I am confident that Booth would not appreciate it."

"Not pity Dr. B, just concern."

Further conversation halted as they heard the door to the bedroom slide open, and Booth came back into the kitchen. Dishes finished, Aubrey said good bye to the kids, thanked Brennan for the hospitality and climbed into Booth's car. They drove in silence for a while when Booth finally said, "Ok Aubrey, what's on your mind? You are never this quiet unless you're eating."

Aubrey ignored the jibe. "So, you can tell me it's none of my business, but based on what I saw this morning, I have to ask, are you ok?"

Booth sighed. "Yea, I'm fine. I know it's not a pretty sight, but I'm used to it. It just takes me while to get moving in the morning."

"So, what the hell happened to you?"

Booth stared at the road, gripping the steering wheel with exceptional concentration and Aubrey figured he would not be getting an answer.

Finally Booth spoke. "It's mostly from my first stint in the army. I had almost a week in the company of the Republican Guard. After I was rescued, I spent a couple months in various Army hospitals. I don't remember much about the first month - it was pretty much waking up from surgery and being told to go back to sleep. The second month was spent waiting for screws and casts to be removed and being told to be patient. Had another month doing physical therapy as an outpatient. Most of the damage was to my feet, but they also did a number on my back and messed up my right leg." His tone held no emotion but Aubrey noted that Booth was losing another layer of his molars clenching his jaw. "Between that and some other incidents, I've broken a lot of bones, some of them multiple times. Bones is annoyingly right when she says that my skeleton can no longer hide the abuse.

"Is there anything they can do?"

"Not really. I have exercises I do to try and keep everything in alignment, then there's ibuprofen, ice packs and the jacuzzi. It looks worse than it actually is."

Aubrey knew a lie when he heard it, but decided that there was no reason to push his friend further. Booth was obviously uncomfortable with the discussion. Besides, they'd arrived at his place.

"So, are you having second thoughts about going out in the field with a beat up old guy?" The question was asked casually, but Aubrey knew that Booth would take his answer seriously. There were too many things that could go wrong in the field and you needed to know that your partner had your back. Your partner also needed to know that you had his back. Mutual trust was a requirement of the job.

He thought about what he had seen this morning. He also thought of all the stuff he had learned in the 2 years of working together, and the way that Booth protected his "family". He came to the conclusion there was no other agent he would rather have backing him. "Nope. Just make sure you've had your coffee first. Thanks for the ride Booth."


	2. Cam

A/N : Takes place after the ending credits of the season 7 finale.

Special Agent Seeley Booth was beyond exhausted. It had been a very trying week and now he'd been in the interrogation room for 23 hours. On the wrong side of the questions. On the plus side, he wasn't being physically restrained or abused, so in the rational part of his brain (see Bones I can be rational thought Booth), he could regard the whole situation as an annoyance and exercise in futility rather than anything more sinister.

"One more time Booth, where is your partner?" asked Flynn for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

"I don't know. We had our daughter baptized. We came out of the church, I went to get the car while Dr. Brennan and Christine waited in front. The car wouldn't start. I opened the hood and determined that the engine had been tampered with. I went back to the front of the church and she was gone. The baby carrier was on the steps. That's all I know. " He had repeated these statements with minor variations several times over the past day.

"She never mentioned that she was fleeing?"

"No."

"Did you notice anything unusual about her behavior in the past day?"

"No. She was perfectly fine being accused of murdering her old friend." Booth replied sarcasticly.

Flynn was exasperated. Booth was revealing nothing they didn't already know, and with Booth's knowledge of interrogation techniques Flynn wasn't expecting him to slip up in any way. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't going to be more forthcoming either. The techs had combed through his phone records, banking statements and searched his house. While they had found large withdrawals from Brennans accounts, the couple had no joint accounts so there was no evidence that Booth was aware of his partners actions. Unable to find anything to charge him with, they were going to have to let him go. Flynn really didn't think that Booth was guilty of abetting his partner, but knew the best way to get Dr. Brennan back to face the charges against her would be to arrest Booth, but he had nothing to legally hold him.

"Ok", Flynn sighed "you're free to go".

Booth left the room. And nearly collided with Caroline and Sweets. "Come on Cher, let's get you outta here." Booth was about to protest when his foggy brain came to the conclusion that he didn't have a car. His Mustang was missing some engine parts thanks to Max, Bones' car had been impounded and he had had to give up the FBI SUV two days ago when he'd opted for suspension rather than desk duty. Taking advantage, Sweets grabbed one arm and Caroline the other and the trio marched to the elevator.

He was still trying to form a coherent thought when they exited through the lobby. Cam was waiting out front in her car. Caroline opened the passenger side while Sweets put a duffle bag in the back seat that Booth hadn't noticed before and belatedly recognized as his. Caroline shoved him in the front seat. "Dr. Saroyan is going to take care of you tonight. Don't be a pain in the ass or you'll have to answer to me, and you already know that I'm not in a mood to be trifled with." Booth recognized that there was no way he was going to win this battle and was too tired to try anyway. Sweets leaned into the car and said "if you want to talk, as a friend, call anytime." He then shut the passenger door and nodded to Cam. Booth leaned back against the headrest and shut his eyes as Cam pulled away from the curb.

They drove in silence and he dozed a bit. She nudged him gently when they arrived at her place. "We're here." Booth looked up in confusion, this wasn't the Mighty Hut. He glanced at her quizzically but before he could say anything she held a hand up. "You haven't slept in at least 36 hours that I know of, and you probably weren't sleeping well since we found Sawyer's body. I'm also guessing that the only thing that has gone in your stomach since the baptism has been bad FBI coffee. Besides, even if you begged me to take you home, I am NOT facing the wrath of the others if you were to be left alone tonight. The care and feeding of Seeley Booth has been the topic of many text messages today."

"And you drew the short straw?" he asked, exiting the car, and taking the bag from her. He figured that was the least rude of the comments floating through his head. He intensely disliked being the topic of conversation.

"I was the obvious choice. Caroline's daughter and some friends are in town so she has a full house. Wendall and Sweets don't have a spare room, and while Daisy's roommate is out of town, once Hodgins wanted to start a pool on how high your blood pressure would be in the morning, we figured that wasn't a good idea. And Hodgins thought..." she trailed off.

"Thought what?"

"That being around Angela and Michael Vincent would be difficult for you. Angela is not taking Brennan's disappearance any better than you are" she stated bluntly. "Michelle is staying at a friend's place tonight so her bed is free. So, unless you want to go stay with Daisy and Lance at her place, you are here for the night." She crossed her arms and gave him a look that dared him to argue.

"Ok, ok" he gave in as they headed into the kitchen where she poured him a scotch. The doorbell rang and she left him in the kitchen contemplating the liquid. "What the hell am I going to do now?" he finally allowed the thought to creep into his head. "She left me. She took Christine. She..." his panic was interrupted when Cam returned with Wendall in tow. Wendall placed take out counters on the table. "Just dropping these off. Cam said she didn't have much food at her place and I figured you might be hungry. It's a couple of your favorites from the diner." He placed a hand on Booth's shoulder "we'll get this figured out and bring them home. See you tomorrow." Booth mumbled his thanks to Wendall's back as he left. He wasn't hungry, but he appreciated the gesture. He was also grateful that his friend did not stay to talk. He was barely holding onto his sanity here and the fewer folks he had to pretend in front of the better.

"Tuna melt or burger?" Cam asked. "We'll split the fries. Whatever you don't want I'll take, but you will eat something." She made it clear that her word was final. Again Booth didn't try to argue.

"I don't care."

"Then here's the burger. Now eat."

"What did Wendall mean, see you tomorrow?" he asked after choking down a few bites.

"Tomorrow we're all heading to your place. Hodgins has your car fixed and will drop it off. The FBI techs have been searching your house and we all know they are not always the best at cleaning up after themselves. We'll help you get it put back together, and then we'll start figuring out how to fix the rest of this mess."

"I can take care of the house on my own. I don't need to be everyone's community service project."

"Yea, well, you made your bed so now you get to lie in it." Cam replied a little annoyed that she had accurately predicted his response.

"What?"

"Since Christine was born how many Sunday dinners have you and Brennan been alone?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" He was too tired to follow the sudden shift.

She continued as if hadn't spoken. "Michelle and I have been over a couple of times. I know Angela, Hodgins and Michael Vincent have been there at least twice as well. Caroline has been invited. You've even had Daisy and Sweets and Wendall. You two have created this extended family and we are all the better for it. So you don't get to share the good stuff with us and then shut us out when things go to shit."

He opened his mouth to speak and she held up her hand. "I'm not done yet. If Hodgins were in your shoes would you leave him alone? Would you let me be if Michelle ran away? No. Every single one of us knows that you would walk through fire to help us if we needed it. Hell, you'd even help Daisy if something happened to Lance and she drives you up a wall. So Seeley Joseph Booth, you don't get to do this on your own and you have no one to blame but yourself."

He opened his mouth and then shut it, unable to form an argument. She met his stare until he nodded and muttered "Ok. Geez, you've got the mom voice perfected."

They finished their sandwiches in silence, Cam figured she'd lectured him enough for the evening and it was obvious he was struggling to process his thoughts and emotions. She refilled his scotch as needed hoping that the combo of food and liquor might be helpful in letting him sleep. When he finished the burger she pushed the fries towards him. "Save my figure. Eat up." He ate a few, clearly because she told him to and not because he was hungry. When it became apparent he was done, she stood up, grabbed the bag and led him down the hall. "Clean towels are in the cupboard. There are clean clothes in the bag. Take a shower and go to bed." He stared at her. On the one hand he was irritated to be treated like he was Parker's age, but on the other, it was nice to not have to think.

Cam breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the shower start. She needed a few minutes to collect herself - the last thing he needed was to see how upset she was. She had been a little harsher than she intended with her stubborn friend. Intellectually she knew that he wouldn't have heard her otherwise, but he was just so so...broken was the word that came to mind, that she felt like she had just kicked a puppy. Once again she cursed Pelant. This was just so damn cruel and unfair. Seeley had endured a lot over the years and always managed to bounce back, but she knew this time was different. He had been at his happiest the last few months so had much further to fall now that it had all gone south. He was strongest person she knew, but there were limits.

She heard the shower stop and the sounds of him getting dressed. The bathroom door creaked open and she waited a few minutes after Michelle's door opened. Figuring he was safely tucked in she padded down the hall to her room. It was only 9:30 but the events had taken a toll and she was exhausted. She stopped short at Michelle's door - it was ajar, the lights were still on and Seeley was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone. Every muscle in his body was clenched, and his chest heaved erratically as he tried to contain the sadness. She debated leaving him be, knowing that he'd be embarrassed to be this vulnerable, but found that she could not ignore his pain. Gently she rapped her knuckles on the door. When it became obvious that he was too far gone to hear, she sat next to him on the bed. One hand on his knee, she stroked his back with the other and glanced at the phone. It was a photo of the family taken yesterday at Christine's baptism. Trying to keep her voice steady she talked to him softly. "It's going to be ok, we'll get them back, they love you, you're not alone." Over and over she repeated the mantra even though he gave no indication of hearing her. Eventually his breathing became more normal. Whether that was due to her presence or his exhaustion she didn't know. Taking a deep breath, he leaned into her a bit and covered the hand on his knee with his own. "I'm sorry" he whispered "didn't mean to lose it like that". "No worries, you needed to get that out Big Man. Do you think you can sleep now?". He nodded wearily, and she hugged him and then chuckled.

"It didn't register earlier that we don't have any manly soap in the house." she explained to his raised eyebrows. "You smell like a cookie, Seeley." "Better than a damn flower garden" he said wryly "and don't call me Seeley, Camille."

She felt a weight off her shoulders with that remark. He wasn't okay and wouldn't be till Brennan and Christine were back, but there was a shadow of her friend still there. She kissed his cheek, stood and waited for him to get situated under the covers. Turning out the light she said softly "Don't call me Camille".

Her confidence that it would all work out lasted down the hallway. Once she closed her bedroom door behind her, she grabbed a pillow off the bed and sobbed into it.

She woke the next morning to sounds of puttering in the kitchen. Staggering down the hallway she met his bloodshot eyes with her own. He handed her a mug. "Have some coffee."


	3. Angela

A/N : ? Season 7 somewhere before "The Prisoner in the Pipe"

* * *

Booth was on his hands and knees under the kitchen sink of the Mighty Hut when he heard a familiar voice "Yoo hoo! Where's my favorite G-Man?"

"In the kitchen" he called out not straying from his task. He was almost done installing the faucet and the last thing he wanted to do was drop the damn wrench again. "Be right with you" he said as he heard her entering the kitchen.

"Take your time, I'll just enjoy the view" came the reply. Since it was Angela, and his ass was in the air, he blushed but didn't reply.

She did not need the encouragement anyway. "So, why is it, if the plumber weighs 300 pounds and has a beer belly, there is no avoiding the butt crack, but when you wouldn't mind a glimpse of ass, the shirt stays firmly tucked in. The universe really isn't fair sometimes."

He finished with the faucet, took a deep breath and fixing a neutral expression stood to face her. "You do remember you have a husband right?"

"What's your point? As my dad always said, just because you ain't hungry don't mean you can't look at the menu." She handed him a paper cup from a drink carrier as she unloaded 2 thermoses, paper cups, napkins and pink pastry box from a bag on the counter. "I brought sustenance for the crew this morning."

He took a sip. "Thanks. What brings you here so early?"

"I wanted to get measurements and take pictures before I'd be in the way. Bren and I are going to figure out paint and window treatments today for the living room, nursery, bathrooms and master suite today. Things are really shaping up in here. Assuming your little girl doesn't decide to arrive early, this place should be ready when she is."

"Thanks for helping out. I know Bones is going a little nuts not being able to supervise but the fumes from the floor varnish really makes her sick."

"No worries, I'm having a great time. I had once considered interior design as a career, but after working at it one summer decided I wasn't cut out to deal with snooty clients. "

She glanced at her friend. He had been scarce around the lab the last couple of months between work and personal issues. He looked tired.

"Haven't seen you around much lately. How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." She rolled her eyes, of course she wasn't expecting to hear anything different.

"Right, because rennovating a house, expecting a baby, combining 2 households, having your dad die and your son moving across the ocean is not the least bit stressful." She squeezed his arm gently and then in a softer voice "I was really sorry to hear about your dad. I know your relationship was...complicated, but he was still your dad. And I know you'll miss Parker. It's gotta be rough dealing with everything on your plate right now, even the good stuff, but you know Hodgins and I are here if you need us."

He stared intently at the counter top, giving her hand a quick squeeze "I know Ange, I appreciate it."

She returned the squeeze, grabbed her camera and measuring tape and headed into the living room. He started pulling out the light fixture to install. He could hear her recording notes on her phone as she debated the merits of cardinal, burgundy, moss, seafoam or cerise paint colors and whether the curtains should be ecru or ivory. He prayed that he would not be called upon to give an opinion on any such matters. Just the other night Bones had pulled out 56 paint chips in various shades of white and had been exasperated with him when he told her he couldn't tell the difference. He heard Angela head up the stairs to look at the master suite and nursery and he figured he was off the hook.

He was finishing up the wiring when she returned. "You guys are going to be incredibly happy here. I can imagine the kids running down the hallway giggling. I can see your daughter crawling around this living room and learning to walk here. I can hear Parker thumping a basketball out back and Brennan singing the baby to sleep. I can picture the two of you cooking dinner in here and bickering over breakfast. Cuddling on the couch with a glass of wine while keeping an eye on the baby monitor. It's going to be a real home. You are giving Brennan the dream she had before she stopped dreaming."

The two looked at each other. Both had suspiciously bright eyes. She was grinning broadly, he had a small smile as he focused on whether or not he could respond with the lump that had suddenly arrived in his throat. She had put into words everything he was hoping for.

She stared at him for a moment. "It's not just her dream is it? You don't talk about your past, so it's easy to forget, but you've gone through some pretty awful times. Did you ever think your life would turn out this way?"

He gave a small shake of his head. "Nope."

She raised her coffee cup in a toast "To living your dreams." They tapped the cups together and sipped.


	4. Sweets

A/N : Thanks for the follows and the reviews!

Missing scene from "The Party in the Pants". Because aside from the end of season 6, this episode in my opinion had the most holes in it, from a timeline perspective and character development perspective. Seriously, Booth finally admits that something is wrong, to Sweets no less, and they just ignore it?

Sweets and Booth exited the elevator and headed towards the break room, discussing the latest case developments, which weren't promising. Booth grabbed his Steelers mug and filled it.

"How about you? How are you doing?" Sweets asked.

"Sweets.." Booth sighed as he looked at his coffee cop

"I'm asking as a friend, not a shrink" Sweets interrupted.

Booth looked around uncomfortably before meeting the psychologists gaze. "I'm not doing too good." He admitted reluctantly.

"I saw Charlie make that pot earlier. You know coffee making is not one of his talents. The case is stalled, let's go get some fresh air and better brew at the cart. I'm buying."

Sweets could see him weighing his options. Finally he dumped the coffee, rinsed the mug and said "Ok".

They headed out in silence. Booth grabbed a table while Sweets went to get their drinks. While waiting in line, Sweets focused his shrinky brain on the agent, noting the hunched shoulders, tight jaw, leg shaking and constant fidgeting with his lighter. Booth was clearly at war with himself - unable to continue pretending that everything was fine but uncomfortable with the thought of actually talking about the problem. Sweets sighed to himself. Dr. Brennan may be the Queen of walls in her personal life, but over the years he had learned that Booth was a worthy king. The agent just had developed better camouflauge on his barriers.

He set the cups down and grabbed the chair opposite Booth. Deciding a direct approach was best he asked, "So, what's going on with you and your mom?"

Booth relayed the conversations at the playground and his office. "All these years I gave her a pass, you know, figuring she couldn't handle a family. Now I find out she just couldn't handle OUR family. I suppose I can't really blame her for that given our family, but..." his voice trailed off.

"Can I ask why you gave her a pass in the first place? That seems to be a pretty big deal, and I'm curious as to your reasons."

Booth thought for a moment. "Because when she left he had never hit Jared, and the only times Dad hit me was when I tried to stop him from hitting her. He'd never started with me, and as soon as I'd get in the way he'd get all apologetic until the next time he got drunk. I guessed from her point of view if she wasn't there for him to start with I'd be ok. And after that last night, she really couldn't stay anymore."

"The last night?"

"He threw her down the stairs. I was coming up them to try and stop it, so when she fell she took me with her. I ended up with a broken arm and some bruised ribs. She broke her hip and had to have surgery. My aunt Ruth took us to visit her in the hospital a few times. I brought her my Philly Phanatic to keep her company." He gave a bitter laugh. "Nine year olds are pretty limited in their resources, and their problem solving techniques. The day she was supposed to come home we went to pick her up and she was gone. We moved soon after that because of curious social workers. I remember telling Jared that she probably didn't know where we were anymore, so that's why she couldn't come back. "

"How long were you with your dad after she left?"

"Almost 3 years. For the first 6 months it was ok. Dad still drank, but not to excess. And I got pretty good at reading the signs on when we should make ourselves scarce. Then one night all hell broke loose again." Booth closed his eyes and gave a small shudder. "After that dam broke, it seemed to be easier for Dad to get started. A few weeks after my tweflth birthday he...well let's just say it was bad. The next morning he was gone but Pops was there. Pops told us to pack a suitcase with the essentials, we were going to live with him and Grams. He'd come back for the rest of our stuff later."

"You said earlier it had been 24 years since you'd seen your mom. So, you saw her at some point after she left your dad?"

"She'd stop by a couple of times a year after we went to live with Pops. She always was travelling so she'd say that it was best if we stayed where we were. She came to my high school graduation, said I had turned out well, gave me a hug, and walked out the door. I figured I was 18, and I didn't need a mom anymore. That was the last time I saw her till she showed up in my office."

After a few seconds he let out a breath and looked at Sweets "So, what's the professional opinion? Am I the biggest chump east of the Mississippi?"

"Friend, not shrink, here remember? But the opinon both professional and personal is you're not an chump. You were a kid trying to make sense out of a horrible situation. You figured out a way to cope with that and move on with your life. Now she comes back and you're being forced to examine her decisions and the consequences of them again. This time, you have the added perspective of being a parent. I'm guessing that you are angry at her for leaving you and Jared with your dad, knowing what he was capable of, because you can't imagine not doing everything in your power to protect Parker or Christine. However, since you know why she left, you are angry at yourself for being angry with her. Throw in that when you get angry you worry about losing control and acting like your father and you have a trifecta of misery. Am I close?"

"Nailed it. " Booth let out a long breath. "So now that we've agreed on the problem, what's the solution?"

"The thing you have to decide is what to do with that anger. You can hold onto it or you can decide to let it go. Forgive your mom, but more importantly forgive yourself."

Booth chuckled at that. "Bones talked about forgiveness too. You know, I'm starting to think that anthropology and psychology are not that different."

"Well, if you can manage to forgive, it's always better for your own outlook. But, it's worth pointing out that if you do forgive your mom, you can still decide to not see her again. You let go of the anger towards someone who hurts you, without giving them the opportunity to hurt you again. It will be up to you to decide what kind of relationship, if any, you want to have with your mom."

Booth nodded and contemplated his coffee cup once more. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Booth busy thinking, Sweets checking the agents body language. He seemed to be less tense now, which made they psychologist feel better.

Booth finished his coffee, stood and placed on hand on Sweets shoulder. "Thanks. I think I need to take a walk and think things through ok?"

"Sure, take your time, and if you need to talk some more, you know where to find me."

As Booth was leaving, Sweets had a horrifying thought. "Hey Booth," he called to the agents back. When he turned around "You're not going to tell Dr. Brennan that psychology and anthropology agreed on a solution are you?"

"I'm screwed up Sweets, not stupid. Thanks for the coffee."


	5. Caroline

A/N: Had to get back to happy. This one is sometime in the season 6 hiatus.

It was 7:30 Tuesday morning and Caroline Julian was irritated. The afternoon before a judge had granted yet another delay to a defense attorney and she had yet to stop spitting nails. This morning her coffee maker had given up the ghost, her last decent pair of panty hose had run and her Gremlin was making ominous noises. She exited the elevator toward her office and there stood a smiling Seeley Booth waiting at her door.

Normally this would improve her mood. The agent had the goods and he was easy enough on the eyes. However, she was not ready to be charmed, and Booth and Dr. Brennan had been tap dancing on her last nerve lately. For 5 years she had watched them do their clueless "just partners" dance. A little over a year ago they had run off to opposite ends of the earth leaving her to deal with incompetent replacements for 7 months. She had to call in countless favors to get their butts back in DC where they belonged. That should have been the end of it, but they weren't done being fools yet. Months of Dr. Brennan being sad and Booth obliviously dating a reporter. Then it was Booth's turn to be pathetic after the reporter kicked him to the curb. Now, they were both single and still having the same fais do-do. How two smart people could be so damn stupid was just a burr in her backside. She was about ready to give him a piece of her mind when she noticed he was holding 2 large paper cups.

"If that cup is for me, you just saved your sorry ass Cher."

"It is for you - cafe au lait made with genuine Cafe Du Monde coffee, and good morning to you." the agent smirked.

She sipped appreciatively, and sighed. It tasted like home. "Where did find a place that brews chicory coffee here in DC?" She unlocked her office door and ushered him in.

"I have sources. And why did my ass need saving? I closed a case yesterday and haven't had time to piss you off today."

"I was just irritated in general and you happened to be here. But now that you are bribing me with good coffee, what heinous crime have you committed that you need to try and get on my good side?"

"I wasn't aware that you had a good side Cheri" he sassed back with a twinkle in his eye. "And I'm here because we have an appointment. Going over the Hanson case?"

"That one is a slam dunk, we just need to dot the i's and cross the t's. That doesn't explain the attempted bribery."

"Can't a guy just bring his favorite prosecutor a cup of coffee? Why does there have to be an ulterior motive?" He was still smiling at her.

Now she was suspicious. He was entirely too cheery to be trustworthy this early in the morning. She glared at him. He continued to be unruffled by her scrutiny.

"Well let's get the work out of the way, so when you finally do tell me your motivation I can throw you out of my office without having to drag your butt back here and irritating myself all over again."

She grabbed the file, found her list of questions and fired away. It was a short list and he had all the answers she needed, so ten minutes later she was satisifed that she could try the case in her sleep. Slightly less annoyed she picked up her coffee again and stared at him again.

He remained smiling and relaxed. She narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment. It had been a long time since she had seen him this content. Did that mean what she thought it meant?

"So, are you going to tell me what's got you in such a good mood? Did you and the good doctor finally come to your senses?"

His smile grew wider and he nodded.

She was stunned. Caroline Julian did not stun easily. She tried to regroup, after all, she had a reputation to protect. "You did all this buttering me up to tell me that you've stopped being couillon?"

"Nope. I am buttering you up because in 6 months you're going to be pissed at me again."

"And what makes you think I need to wait 6 months? And what fool thing are you going to do then?"

"I'll be taking some time off, and Bones will be too." He was practically giddy.

"For a vacation? It's no skin off of my nose if you're gone for a week."

"3 weeks for me. 6 weeks for Bones." He paused to let that sink in. "Parental leave."

She gasped and put her hand to her chest. She opened her mouth and shut it again.

He was still grinning that goofy grin, eyes twinkling. "I do believe I'm going to have to write this day down. I have successfully stunned Ms. Caroline Julian into silence."

"Seeley Booth, why are sitting there talking to me when you should be standing so I can hug you?" she demanded.

Now it was his turn to be stunned. Caroline Julian was not known for displays of affection. Obediently he stood.

She wrapped her arms around him, hugged him fiercely and whispered in his ear "It's about damn time you found yourself some happy Cher."


	6. Daisy

A/N - Reposting after finding some phrasing errors. My thanks to those that have reviewed already - your kind words made my day.

That first year they had surprised each other. Everyone had been very aware of the date of course, and she had several offers of companionship. She had declined them all, making promises to call if she changed her mind. If there was one thing she had learned during that awful first year was that grief had its own timetable. Well meaning loved ones often panicked when she became overwhelmed and backed out of plans, so it was easier to be vague on those days when the reminders would be everywhere.

The day arrived bitterly cold with storm clouds threatening, a sharp contrast to the day they had officially said goodbye to her Lancelot. Unexpectedly she felt compelled to visit "their" spot. Not wanting to subject little Lance to the elements she dropped the baby off at day care and headed to the park. As she pulled into the parking lot she was shocked to see his SUV there. She walked towards the spot on the hill, lost in thought. Then she had come to the conclusion that she wasn't that shocked. Out of all the people who had loved Lance, he was the one whose sense of duty and ritual was the greatest. It really wasn't surprising that he would carve time out of his day specifically to remember his friend. She rounded the corner and saw him overlooking the city, shoulders hunched in the cold. She had hesitated, wondering if she would be intruding. As if sensing her, he had turned around and gave a small wave and a wan smile. She walked quickly towards him, suddenly unwilling to be alone. As she neared, he really did shock her, embracing her in a bear hug. Special Agent Seeley Booth was not known for displays of physical affection towards anyone save his wife and children. Her composure had slipped at that point and she had let her tears flow, clinging to him. He had simply held her and said, "I know. I miss him too." When she had calmed, they walked towards the bench and sat in silence. She overtly wiping tears with his handkerchief, he with eyes suspiciously bright, both just remembering. Finally the cold intruded and he suggested coffee at the shop around the corner. They spent the next hour sipping and reminiscing. Both left the shop feeling better than when they had arrived.

The second year, she had hesitated. She had decided that she needed to go, but had not wanted him to feel obligated. Finally, the night before she had texted her plans. His response was "I'll bring the coffee." It had been a nicer day, so they sat on the bench and watched little Lance play in the grass. Both had pointed out the traits the toddler had inherited from his father.

This third year, it was his turn to hesitate. Daisy was dating - an old college friend of Lance's had looked her up. At first the relationship had been out of shared loss, but then they had discovered common interests and view points. Steve was a nice guy (and yes, he had done a covert background check), adoring Daisy and doting on little Lance, and they were speaking of making it official. Booth was happy for them-Daisy and Lance deserved happiness and love, and he knew that Sweets would be pleased for his son to have a loving father. He was reluctant to suggest meeting-he did not want her to feel like he was disapproving of her moving on. In the end he didn't have to broach the subject, a couple of days before she stated her plans to visit the park and asked if he would join her.

She brought the coffee, he brought the donuts. They sat mostly in silence - their lives intersected enough that there was no need for small talk. Their boys were preschool pals. She had spent many a holiday with his family - she was Aunt Daisy to his children, he was "Uncle Boof" to her son. They laughed at Seeley Lance's antics, both secure in the knowledge that somewhere Lance Sweets was watching, happy to be remembered by the two people who had loved him the most.


	7. Finn & Michelle

A/N: Season 7. This takes place after "The Bump in the Road" where Finn starts dating Michelle.

It was only 630 and Seeley Booth had already had a busy day. He'd given up on sleep after Christine started crying close to dawn. Bones had told him to get lost - she and the baby would nap after feeding. So he headed into the Hoover, did a sunrise run along The Mall, followed by a weight session in the FBI gym. After a shower he was starving and had time for breakfast before the first staff meeting of the day, so he headed to the Royal Diner.

At the counter, Finn Abernathy was nursing a cup of coffee while reading, his ride into the city had a scheduling conflict so he was killing time till he had to get to the lab. Seeing the empty seat next to the squint, Booth approached "Hey Finn, mind if I sit down."

"No Sir Agent Booth." Inwardly he was groaning though, in general he and law enforcement had not been the best of friends. But even if he had been a boy scout growing up, he would have found Dr. Brennan's partner intimidating. The FBI man was physically imposing plus had a glare that could freeze a creek in July.

Booth flipped his cup over for the waitress to fill. "You can drop the agent and the sir, and just call me Booth. Have you had breakfast?"

"No s.." He stopped himself before the sir came out. "Not hungry this mornin". That was a bit of a lie, but he was saving his money for his date tonight.

"You sure? I'm buying. I remember poor student days."

"Well, then, much obliged." The waitress came and they placed their orders.

Booth took the opportunity to study the young man next to him.

Finn didn't crack under the scrutiny, earning a point in the agents book. Finally deciding to let the squint off the hook, Booth asked "So how's the Jeffersonian treating you? I have to tell you, Bones has been impressed by your work so far and that doesn't happen very often. Some days I think she's still waiting for me to impress her."

"Well, we've had a few bumps in the road, but I reckon things are going alright now. I feel like I'm in high cotton getting to work at the Jeffersonian and with the brilliance there. Never would have dreamed it as sprout."

"And how is Michelle? You know, I knew her back in pre-school. Cam and I have been friends for a long time. She's my niece." He kept his expression bland, but his tone was deadly. Booth watched the intern squirm.

"Uh. She's great. I'm introducing her to Blue Grass, and she's showing me around town."

"That's nice." Booth smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze remained steady on the intern.

Finn sighed, recognizing yet another round of his misspent youth about to bite him in the ass.

"Sir, as I told Dr. Saroyan, I have in the past been on the wrong side of the law, but I assure you I currently walk the straight and narrow and where Michelle is concerned I will do right by her." He looked Booth straight in the eye.

The two stared at each other for a while. Finally Booth chuckled and blinked. "So, you've stared down me, stood up to Cam and haven't annoyed Bones. Michelle could do worse."

Their breakfasts arrived. Satisfied, Booth turned the topic to sports and discovered approvingly that Finn was well acquainted with hockey although a Carolina Hurricanes fan. He was quite pleased to find another squint who could at least fake normal. Booth was enjoying the food and the conversation. Finn was trying to, but kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

They finished up, Booth paid the bill and stood. "Gotta run. Have a good one." Finally Finn cracked. "That's it?" he asked. "You're not going to ask me about my step dad?"

"Nope. I looked at your record - don't feel singled out, I do it on all the squinterns. Bones told me that you bluffed your stepfather into disappearing. I know what it's like to want someone to never darken your door again. Particularly when you're watching the bastard beat up on your mother."

Finn was stunned. Though the tone was without emotion, he had no doubt that Booth was speaking from personal experience. He merely nodded. "Thanks for breakfast." he called to the agents back. Booth waved in acknowledgement and left. Finn glanced at his watch and realized he still had some time to kill before he had to get to work, so he had another refill of coffee.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been a busy day. A skeleton had been found in a shallow grave, but it was determined that it had been there for 30 years, and there had been no determination of foul play yet. So, the sense of urgency wasn't too great, Booth figured he and Bones could still take off and make their date night. Max had volunteered to watch Christine and Booth was looking forward to the evening.

As he entered the lab he saw Bones, Hodgins and Finn on the platform engaged in scientific discussion over the bones. They still had time before their dinner reservation so he figured he could give them 15 minutes to wrap up. He headed up to the lounge.

Michelle was sitting there, cup of coffee in hand. "Hey Uncle Booth" She gave him a quick hug.

"Hey Michelle... you getting stood up too?" He nodded towards the platform and poured himself a cup.

"I'm a little early so..hey wait. Cam told you about Finn? And our date?" She asked with a bit of panic in her voice.

"No she did not. I heard rumors. You know how fast the romance hotline works around here. Finn confirmed it when we had breakfast this morning" he replied blandly.

Michelle groaned and rolled her eyes "You, had breakfast with Finn?"

"Is there a problem?"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM?" She demanded. "I swear Uncle Booth, if you made him squirm I, I'll, I..." she couldn't think of an appropriate threat on the spot, but damn, she was annoyed.

"Whoa, innocent here." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "All I did was buy him breakfast."

"Right" She said sarcastically, "the last time you talked to my boyfriend, he jumped for a week when I tried to hold his hand."

"That wasn't my fault. I can't help it if Perry had a nervous condition."

"Perry didn't have a nervous condition until AFTER you gave him your resume" glared Michelle.

"I didn't lie or embellish, I was just trying to make conversation." Booth continued to sip his coffee.

"YOU TOLD HIM YOU WERE A SNIPER." Michelle was practically shouting now.

That last comment had carried. Finn, Hodgins and Dr. Brennan glanced up. Brennan looked at her watch and smiled, saying "I think that's enough for the day." She stripped off her gloves and headed towards her office. Finn glanced at Hodgins. "Agent Booth was a sniper?" Seeing the intern paling a bit, Hodgins decided to have fun. He started up towards the lounge, Finn following. "Yea, he's pretty good at hand to hand combat too. You know, there was this one time when we had some Men in Black types demanding we look at some bones. Booth took 3 of them out in under a minute, I mean granted, they weren't really going to use guns or anything on us, but these guys were trained government agents and he locked them to railings with their own handcuffs. This was AFTER he evaded 3 of them to break back into the lab, and shot 2 cantaloupes from the catwalk in 1.6 seconds moving at 11 miles an hour with an 80 year old gun."

They reached the lounge where Michelle was glaring at Booth, but the agent seemed unconcerned.

"Hey Michelle. Hey Booth" Hodgins said. Michelle went to give Finn a kiss, but he turned his head at the last minute so she got his cheek instead of his lips. He was swallowing hard and glancing nervously in Booth's direction.

"All right, WHAT did you guys say to him? " Michelle glared at Hodgins and Booth in order. Both men fixed expressions of innocence on their faces. "I was just telling him about a past case" said Hodgins, "Coffee and pancakes" said Booth.

Further conversation was halted as Brennan arrived in the lounge area. "Ok, Bones, ready to roll? Have a good night you two." The older couple said their goodbyes and left, Hodgins used the opportunity to escape further questioning.

As he heard the doors close signalling Booth and Brennan's exit, Finn exhaled and greeted Michelle properly.

"Are you okay?" Michelle asked.

"Yep. But I do believe I'll be as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs around Agent Booth for a while." He took a sip of her coffee. "Come on, let's get out of here."


	8. Hodgins

Spoilers for "High Treason in the Holiday Season"

The week before Christmas, 2016.

There was a flurry of activity in the Montenegro-Hodgins household. Kisses exchanged, coats and scarves put on, mittens found, good byes, and requests and promises to have fun. Finally, Booth and Hodgins were left alone as Angela, Michael-Vincent, Bones and Christine headed off to see The Nutcracker.

"Ok" Hodgins clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Let's get this party started. The stuff is in the workout room closet. You head down and start pulling it out, I'll get us some snacks."

Booth walked down the hall to Hodgins home gym, opened the closet and groaned. It was going to be a long night. He sighed and started unloading the first couple of boxes, then stood staring, hands on hips, trying to formulate a plan and failing miserably.

Hodgins wheeled in, took in his friends expression and chuckled. "Anything one man can imagine, other men can make real."

Booth stared at him blankly as he reached for the mug Hodgins offered. "Huh?"

"Jules Verne, Around the World in 80 days. Drink up, this isn't as bad as it looks."

Booth took a big gulp then nearly spewed all over the floor. "What the hell is this Hodgins?"

"Irish Coffee. Made with my own distillation of whiskey."

"Well, I think you might need to work on your distilling techniques, I think you could use this as paint thinner. I'm not seeing how us getting sloshed will help"

"Not sloshed, in the Christmas spirit."

"Yea, well. Christmas spirit I've got. What I lack is small, nimble fingers." He ran his hands through his hair. "Don't 'spose you've figured out how to build a robot or some damn thing that will put all those decals on Hank's Big Wheel on straight."

"Does Hank honestly care?"

"No, but, unfortunately his big sister has inherited her mother's respect for precision and detail. Last years work on her bike was considered sub standard. I ended up shifting the blame for shoddy workmanship on an arthritic elf."

Hodgins laughed at the mental image. "No robot, but you are talking to the man who performed an autopsy on an inch long worm. I think I can handle a few decals. You put the big stuff together, I'll do the decorating."

The division of labor worked well, and in no time, the trike was completed and looking good. They stepped back to admire their handiwork and have another hit of coffee.

"Ok, what's next?" asked Hodgins.

"I think Lance's."

"I can't believe you guys got him a drum set. That's so mean."

"Karma's a bitch." Booth shrugged. "Daisy and Sweets gave Christine a complete musical instrument set with cymbals, drums AND a xylophone. We are at least giving Daisy noise cancelling headphones. They gave us a bottle of ibuprofen and a box of plastic ear plugs."

The drum set was completed without much trouble other than the glare Booth gave Hodgins for continually humming "We are Santa's Elves" as he worked.

"Ok, who's next?"

"Can we do Michael Vincent's next? I'm dying to see how it turns out." Hodgins pleaded.

Angela had designed a kids sized replica of the ookey room tables for Michael, only his had an easel on one end as well. She had printed up plans on the Angelatron and Booth had spent time a while back cutting PVC pipes to the correct lengths while Hodgins took care of putting LEDs through plastic to make the table tops light up. Angela had painted the PVC to look like stainless steel, so all that was left was the assembly. This went very smoothly as well, despite the fact that both men's coffee cups were half empty.

"Wow! That looks really great. Almost makes me want to be a junior squint."

"It IS cool isn't it? " beamed Hodgins. "I can hardly wait till he sees it."

"Ok, 3 down 1 to go."

Christine's gift was also designed by Angela. A desk made in the style of the bone room, with a lighted top and translucent drawers. Booth was hoping that at least one of the drawers would hold crayons instead of bones, but he wasn't holding his breath. Hodgins had already assembled the drawers, so this went together quickly as well. The finished products were admired, plans were made for pickup of the B&B household items and Hodgins locked the door behind him to prevent snooping as they headed to the living room to await their families.

They rewarded themselves or a job well done with another cup of coffee. "I gotta tell you bug boy, your whiskey does seem to improve with age. Either that or it killed my taste buds." Booth sighed contentedly.

Hodgins saw that his friends cup was half empty, so being the good host topped it off, forgetting the coffee part of the beverage. "So, now that we're done, you're buzzed, and I can see you're unarmed, I can ask the question. Why did Christine tell Michael that you were banned from the ballet? And who's done the banishment?"

"She and Bones have. Evidently I was an embarrassment last year."

"What did you do?"

"Well, last year Bones publicists got tickets right after Thanksgiving right? Parker had come to visit, and we finished The Patriot case, the day before Thanksgiving. Parker was on UK time, so he was getting up early and I was getting up early to hang out with him. I was also working late because was a high profile case, we got a lot of 'help' from the brass, and I was dealing with paperwork like crazy for the justice department and having to give the PR guys constant updates for the press conferences. So, pretty much up to my ass in alligators the whole week."

Hodgins nodded remembering.

"So, by the time the ballet rolls around, Parker had just flown home that morning, I haven't had a lot of sleep for a week, and the theater was packed and very warm. And the symphony hall had just replaced all their seats, so they're pretty cushy. So, I fell asleep."

"That seems harmless."

"Yea, well we were in the third row. Dead center."

"Still not banishment material."

"There was snoring involved."

"Oops."

"During the Waltz of the Snowflakes."

"Ok, that's a little more noticeable."

"Several orchestra members glared."

"I could see where that would ruin the magic." Hodgins said solemnly.

Both men burst out laughing at that. As the giggles subsided, Hodgins rolled to the desk and took out a small object, tossing it to Booth.

"Speaking of the Patriot case, I've been meaning to give you this for a long time, but kept forgetting."

Booth looked at the object in his hand. It was a clear sphere, about the size of a billiard ball with small flecks suspended in it. The flecks were red, blue, silver and black. Booth examined it, a little puzzled. Finally he noticed that some of the flecks had remnants of circuitry on them. He looked at Hodgins. "Is this what I think it is?"

"If you think it's a pulverized flash drive, then yes. I destroyed it last Thanksgiving like you asked. Angie decided that she needed to make art out of ugliness, so she painted some of the bits and made the mold. We were going to give it to you for Christmas last year, but then this happened" He nodded towards the wheelchair. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that I really did get rid of it man."

"I never doubted it, but thank you." Booth kept rolling the ball in his hand, staring at how the lights reflected through it. It really was pretty.

Booth went over to Hodgins and held out his right hand, grasping the scientist on the shoulder with his left. "I know that went against every thing you hold dear to make this. Yet you did it because I asked you to. I really don't know what else to say but THANK YOU."

Hodgins nodded and shook the agents hand.

They heard their wives and children coming in the front door.

"Merry Christmas, Booth."

"Merry Christmas, Jack."


	9. Christine & Hank

A/N: Set in early season 11, contains slight spoilers to the Loyalty in the Lie. But it's mostly fluff, because I find Daddy Booth irresistible. Again, thanks for the reviews and follows.

Booth jerked himself awake, looked at the clock and silently groaned. 5:03. On a Saturday. After a late night spent finishing paperwork on a case. Between the weird dreams and the overall soreness in his body, he realized that the chances of him getting back to sleep were slim and none. He glanced over at Bones, she was sound asleep, so no opportunity for a pleasant diversion before the kids woke. He sat up gingerly, trying to get out of bed without waking his wife. His feet hit the floor and he winced. He grabbed his socks and headed towards the kitchen.

He ran through his morning stretches while the coffee was brewing. After completing his morning routine he realized it was going to be one of THOSE days, where he would be slightly stiff and sore all day. Checking the weather on his phone confirmed it - cold and damp. He sighed, might as well skip the morning run, it would just be slow and painful and irritate him. Those days were happening more often now. As the t-shirts said, getting old was not for sissies. He reached for a mug and noticed the twinge in his stomach where the bullet had been lodged 2 months earlier. When Jared died. It was basically healed, but the doctors had said the muscle damage would take a while, and certain motions might always be noticeable. Booth had mentally added it to his "list of body parts that mostly worked". It was getting to be a long list.

He mentally shook himself. Don't think about your aging body. Don't think about your little brother. Think about something else. He drifted back to the case - a combination of alcohol and jealousy-nothing too out of the ordinary. However, both the victim and the murderer were under 25. Both had children. Many lives ruined in an instant. Sometimes he hated his job. Okay Booth, he thought, shift gears again.

The Flyers had lost last night, the Steelers were not going to make the playoffs, he had budget reports to do next week, and he had a dentist appointment and a meeting with Hacker on Monday. He was saved from trying to find a cheery train of thought by the sound of Hank crying out.

He headed towards the nursery. The poor kid was getting new teeth and not happy about it. He changed the diaper, recognized the "I'm not sleepy" look in his eyes and carried his son to the kitchen to warm a bottle. While he was bouncing Hank, Christine shuffled in. In spite of his mood he smiled. The girl had a wicked case of bed head.

"Daddy, I woke up and I don't know why." Christine whined. Normally she was a pretty happy kid, but right now was not one of those times. He figured she was about 2 disappointments away from a melt down. She buried her face in his leg. He reached down to tousle her hair.

"I'm sorry pumpkin. How about some hot cocoa?"

She nodded into his leg. And then came the muffled request "And a story? You didn't read me one last night."

"And a story. You're right I owe you one for missing bedtime. Why don't you go pick one out?"

The bottle was ready, the cocoa was warmed and poured into a not quite accurately named no spill cup, and Christine had a few books in one hand and her bunny in the other. The trio headed to the man cave and the recliner. Soon they were snuggled in under a blanket. Booth glanced at the book selections. One of the options was 'Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day'. Perfect. Since Christine was laying on one of his arms, she was given the job of page turning. He started to read.

Near the end of the book he realized that his page turner was no longer up to the job. No matter, as this was at least the 101st reading, he filled in the last couple of pages himself. He looked down at his son and saw that his eyelids were at half mast too. The bottle was still in his mouth but, Hank was not terribly interested in it any longer. He thought longingly of the coffee he had brewed but not poured in the kitchen, and realized it was just going to have to wait. He was the daddy Barcalounger for the time being. He pulled his kids closer.

Bones woke up and stretched. Frowning at the lack of a husband, she glanced at the clock and saw that it was 8:30. Ok, no wonder he's up, she thought, we never get to sleep that late anymore. Feeling very refreshed, she threw on a robe and headed into the kitchen. There she was puzzled by the presence of a very full pot of coffee and the absence of any noise. Pouring two mugs she went in search of her family.

She smiled when she found them. All three were sound asleep. Booth was breathing deeply with a half smile on his face. Hank had his face pressed into his daddy's left shoulder and had left an impressive amount of drool on his father's shirt. His discarded, but not empty bottle had somehow made it to Booth's shoulder and had leaked a bit on his neck. Christine was on the other side, in the crook of his arm with her face curled towards her brother, and her bunny under her arm. From her hand dangled a cup, which based on the stain on Booth's chest had contained a chocolate drink.

She watched for a moment. Booth's eyes opened and met hers. They smiled. She walked in, set his coffee on the table next to the chair, leaned in, kissed him and whispered "Good morning".

"It's a great morning Bones" he whispered back.


	10. Parker

A/N : Thanksgiving 2018

The house was quiet. Booth was pouring his first cup of coffee when Parker walked in, rubbing his eyes. "Hey Dad."

"Hey Bud, wasn't expecting you up for a while. Hopefully I didn't wake you."

"Nah, jet lag. First morning back sucks. Technically, this is sleeping in for me - it's 11:30 in London." He yawned and sat down on a stool. "Can I have a cup?"

Booth was surprised. "When did you start drinking coffee?" He poured half a cup, and set it on the counter in front of the teen with sugar and grabbed some milk out of the fridge.

"Today. Maybe. I dunno. I figure I need to know about coffee before I come here for college."

Now Booth was really surprised. "You're coming back to the States for college? I know we talked about it, but you weren't sure the last time we discussed it. " He was trying to remain casual, but he was thrilled at the thought.

"I was sure. Just wasn't ready to tell mom yet." Parker grinned "But, that's the plan. I've already filled out applications to Georgetown, NYU, Columbia, Boston College, and Old Dominion. I should know in January."

Now Booth was really trying contain his excitement. All of these schools were within easy driving or trains to DC.

"That's really great. It would be awesome to have you closer. And your mom is okay with this?"

"She's coming around. She is finally convinced that I should go back and figure out my home country. " He took a sip of the coffee, made a face. Booth pushed the sugar and milk toward him and handed him a spoon.

"Are you okay with it dad?" Parker asked hesitantly.

"Of course! Why would you think otherwise?"

"Well, because I'm not really thinking about the military. I know that I'll be the first Booth in a while to not join. I don't want to disappoint you."

"Parker." Booth placed a hand on his oldest son's shoulder. "No, I'm not. There are very few things you could do to disappoint me. You know that I have always been proud to have served, and if you wanted to join the military I would support you all the way - I mean within reason. The Navy I'd have to question you on, you know, just because." The two grinned at each other. "But, " Booth hesitated, choosing his words carefully " there are things I've done and seen in the Army that I would be very happy if you never had to experience."

Parker knew his dad had scars. Some he remembered how they happened, but many were there from before he was born. He had also done a paper on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for health class last year and recognized that his dad had exhibited some of the behaviors after his tour in Afghanistan and his three months in prison. He had asked his dad about it last summer, and he admitted to some symptoms and talked about his coping techniques but had glossed over details on the events that had caused the trauma.

"Well Dad, if the last trip to the shooting range was any indication, I don't think you have to worry about me following in your footsteps." Parker tried to lighten the mood.

Booth smiled at the memory, but then grew serious. "Trust me. I couldn't be happier that I didn't pass on that talent. The military wasn't my first choice. The last thing I wanted to do was follow in my father's footsteps. I really only considered it after I lost my scholarship. It was the best option to pay for college."

Parker tried his coffee again. With the sugar and milk it was almost tolerable. He looked at his father trying to read his expression, that WAS a talent his dad had passed on. It was neutral, lost in thought, so Parker decided to press a little further.

"Dad, did you ever see your dad again after you went to live with Pops? I asked Pops at your wedding and he said I should talk to you. But, you were a little busy and I was a little stunned to find out I had a Grandma and I never got around to asking."

"Yea, that was a shock for you." Booth recalled. Parker had assumed that the reason his great grandfather had raised his dad was because his grandparents were dead. He'd been amazed to find out that his grandmother was very much alive and his grandfather had only died the year before. Awkward conversations had been the norm as Parker had a ton of questions that no one really wanted to answer. Eventually the boy had stopped asking.

Seeing his dad frown, Parker said softly "You don't have to tell me if you don't want, I'm just curious. But in case you've forgotten, I've had armpit hair for a while now. "

Booth allowed a small smile at hearing his deferral come back to haunt him. He sighed. "Once. I looked him up the weekend before I was shipping out for my first tour. I don't know why, maybe to show him that I'd made something of myself. In any case, it seemed like a good idea at the time. So, I went into his barber shop. He looked at me and asked what the hell I wanted, because I sure didn't need a hair cut. I stared for a minute and then realized he didn't recognize me. Then he did. And he asked me to go for a drink with him. I left, saying something about hell freezing over."

"I'm sorry dad. I shouldn't have brought it up, I can't even imagine..."

Booth stopped him. "It's ok, you have a right to know. And I'm really glad you can't imagine. Guess I did something right. You know, I used to worry a lot that someday you'd feel the same way about me that I'd felt about him." Booth sipped his coffee and shrugged. "Still do a little bit."

Parker shook his head. "Save your worrying for something real Dad. Like when Christine starts to date."

Booth shuddered. "Don't EVEN put that out there!"

Parker laughed, looked down at his cup and said "This isn't bad, but I think I'd rather have a cup of Bones' tea."

Booth groaned, and put his arms on the counter, buried his face in them. "You've turned English on me" came the muffled voice.

"Maybe but, you love me anyway Dad. You know it, and I know it."


	11. Arastoo

A\N: Thank you for the reviews! This is my first venture into writing, and I very much appreciate the encouragement.

After the Brother in the Basement, hints at the last half of season 10.

Seeley Booth lay in room 393 of Washington General Hospital. He was tired, angry and sad. Tired because it was day 5 in the hospital, and he was no longer relying on painkillers to keep him in a drug induced stupor. Between the blood pressure cuff recording him every hour, the hospital noise, the lights, the uncomfortable bed and the nurses checking frequently he had only slept for two hours at a time.

Angry because once again he was in a damn hospital. He hated hospitals in general, and the memories of the last visit which had resulted in him going to prison instead of home were still too fresh, particularly when there had been a similar round of not so friendly questioning from FBI brass about why he was in the hospital. He had been reassured by Caroline and Stark that he was in the clear but, he found himself keeping his right hand as far away from the bed rail as possible which irritated his wound but validated that there was no handcuff on his wrist. He was angry that his brother had gotten him into this mess. Angry at himself for not finding a way out for both of them. Angry that his wife and friends had once again thought he was dead. Angry that his little girl had spent more nights asking when Daddy was coming home and not being given a definitive answer.

And he was sad, because despite being a major pain in the ass, Jared was his brother. Sad that Jared had never really found his way to a happy life and now it was too late. Sad that his kids would never know their uncle. Sad that he would never be an uncle. Sad that there had been no way to fix it this time. Sad that there would be no next time.

He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep and peace. He was not expecting any visitors this morning- if his body temp remained normal for 6 more hours he was going to be discharged. Bones would be by this afternoon to take him home or offer encouragement, everyone else would wait for the news, and if it was bad, determine whether they wanted to risk it.

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Arastoo Vaziri was heading to room 393 of Washington General Hospital. He was tired, angry and sad. Tired because the last 6 days had been an emotional upheaval. The first three days work had called demanding his attention. The last three sleep had been elusive as he thought about where to go from here.

He couldn't really tell where the anger ended and the sadness began. He was losing a job he loved because Dr. Brennan was coming back to work. He couldn't really blame anyone for that, he just had the bad luck of wanting to be in the same city at the same time as the best in the world. There was only room for one forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian and no matter how well qualified he was, if she wanted the job it was hers. But along with job he was losing his love, his home, and some of his family. He would be moving at some point and if he returned to DC for visits there would be the inevitable division of friends that occurred even during a mutual breakup.

One of the casualties would be the man he was going to visit. It was a little ironic, Arastoo thought to himself, that he was going to miss Booth, because, really, he had never spent much time alone with the agent. Even on the flight back from Iran, he'd been too engrossed in seeing Cam again to pay much attention to the FBI man. Arastoo had always meant to do something more, but had never figured out what. How do you say thank you for flying half way around the world to a semi hostile country to help me out? And then Booth had his own demons to deal with after the return. So their interactions were at group celebrations with the Jeffersonian gang, dinners at the B&B house with Cam & Michelle, an occasional guys night at the sports bar when Wendall was in the mood to organize and Booth wasn't too busy. During those evenings he had realized they had things in common - religious beliefs incomprehensible to the rest of the circle, dedicated sports fans, devotion to family-especially their brothers, and a love for Cam Saroyan.

He wasn't sure why he was going. He really wasn't in the best of moods to offer comfort or distraction. Booth wouldn't be expecting him, and if he noticed the lack of a visit, the agent didn't hold grudges over stuff like this, and even if he did, they would not be seeing much of each other in the future. Arastoo was also uncomfortable with the recent events. Looking over Booth's medical records had been nausea inducing. He also knew the agent was smart enough to realize how much of his privacy had been violated during the case. Arastoo wasn't planning on bringing it up, and hoped Booth felt the same way.

Further thought was put on hold. He had arrived at the hospital. He spotted a coffee stand across the street, and he knew that Booth was allowed outside food and drink. Deciding to procrastinate a bit more, he went to make a purchase.

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Booth sensed someone in the doorway. He knew it wasn't a staff member - they never hesitated. He groaned to himself. He really wasn't in a mood for cheery conversation, maybe the visitor would get the hint and leave. He heard a gentle knock on the door frame. Stop being an ass, he thought to himself and opened his eyes.

"Hey" Arastoo said, walking in around the bed to place the coffee on the agents good side. Deciding to go with blunt honesty, "You look like crap."

Booth gave a bitter laugh. "I could say the same about you."

Arastoo snorted. "Thanks for sugar coating that." He took a sip of his tea and then added "I'm really sorry about Jared."

Booth took the cup and muttered. "Thanks." He knew the condolences were sincere- he had seen first hand Arastoo's devotion to his own brother -but could not manage to say anything else. He studied the scientist and said quietly "Cam came to see me last night. I'm sorry. You guys were good together. You made her very happy."

Arastoo offered a small smile, he knew the condolences were sincere. "Thanks. She's a wonderful woman. I wish things were different, but.." He shrugged, unable to continue.

They spent the next half hour in companionable silence, interrupted with occasional questions about each other's future. They discussed where Arastoo might be heading, and Booth's return to the FBI, but kept small talk to a minimum. Both knew the other was in a state where the only cure was time. Neither had the energy to offer empty platitudes or to fake cheeriness.

When Arastoo rose to leave they exchanged goodbyes not knowing when or if they would meet again. Both were still tired, a little less angry and a little more sad, but both were glad for the visit.


	12. Jessica & Aubrey

A/N: **mphs95** had requested a Jessica chapter. I'm still trying to work out a Booth/Jessica interaction, but in the meantime, this fluff worked it's way into my brain.

May 3, 2017

The diner was crowded. No tables available. Aubrey sighed, another strike against this day. Just then he saw Booth. The older man signaled and pointed. He and Dr. Brennan were at a table with Clark.

"Have a seat Aubrey. We just arrived and Dr. Edison was just leaving" said Dr. Brennan.

Everyone exchanged their good byes, and Aubrey settled in across from the couple. "Jessica is going to join me, is that ok?"

"Of course. How are the w.."

Aubrey held up his hand to stop her "Please don't say the W word" . He sighed. Just then Jessica sat down in the chair next to him, a frown on her normally smiling face. A waitress appeared and filled 4 mugs with coffee, and took their orders.

"Are you sick Aubrey - pancakes, eggs and bacon but no hash browns?" Booth stared across the table at the younger couple. Both were obviously unhappy. Mouths in tight lines, and clenching their coffee cups as if they were life lines. "Ok, so what's wrong you two? Did you have a fight?"

"No" he said.

"Yes" she said.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "So, you're fighting over whether you had a fight?"

"Well, not exactly." Jessica sighed. "We're fine, it's just everybody else is driving us crazy with the w"...

"Don't SAY that word." Aubrey snapped. "I'm tired of talking about it."

"The wedding" Booth stated before Aubrey could stop him. He shook his head at the younger man. "You should have taken my advice."

"Booth, it seems irrational to have given Aubrey advice about his nupitials considering that as I recall you were unwilling to take any when we were planning our wedding." Brennan looked at her husband with disapproval.

Aubrey recalled the conversation with Booth Christmas night. He and Jessica had announced their engagement at the B&B Christmas dinner. The Jeffersonian family had oohed and aahhed at the ring Jess had unwrapped that morning. "His advice was to not take any advice, Dr. B. and he only gave that after I asked him."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense, but it does sound like something he would say."

"So, what's the problem?" Booth asked again.

The younger couple exchanged looks and Aubrey shrugged and gave a half nod to Jessica as if to say, you tell 'em". The redhead began to speak, words flowing from her in a steady stream of consciousness. "Well, you know I was raised in a cooperative right? So I have like 4 mothers and 12 sisters. I'm the first of the girls to have a wedding - all the others just eloped and I understand why now. Unbeknownst to me all the women in the co-op have a guilty pleasure in watching all those wedding shows on reality TV. So 16 people are telling me what kind of dress to get and none of them agree. Then, I was in a sorority in college, so all of THOSE sisters have opinions. Not to mention I have 27 cousins. So, I'm being bombarded with emails and texts and Pintrests boards about flowers and table decorations and favors and what our signature drink should be and where to get monogrammed chocolates and whether my hair should be up or down, and who should do my makeup and buffet vs. sit down dinners. Throw in that my fiancee only has an opinion about the catering, and trying to finish my thesis, and I'm just stressed out, and not having any fun with this at all. I'm mad at myself for letting things get so out of control and listening to everybody else because you know, normally I'm pretty clear on what I want, but it's just that everyone is so happy for us and I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, and now it's a giant mess and no matter what I do, somebody's going to be upset, and there's no way out." She finally ran out of breath. Aubrey reached over to pat her hand. She sighed. "I just want to be married, I don't care about napkin colors and themes."

"Wow" was all Booth could say.

"Okay, let's think this through logically." Brennan said calmly. "What are the requirements for the two of you to be happy with your wedding?"

"Him." "Her". They pointed at each other.

"And ideally when would you get married?" Brennan asked.

"Tomorrow." they said together.

"That anxious, huh?" chuckled Booth.

"Well, there's that, and then there's the fact that tomorrow is Star Wars Day."

"I don't know what that means."

"I'll explain it to you later, Bones."

"Since we're both geeks, we thought it would be a great day to get married, but then everyone was telling us that no one gets married on a Thursday, and 4 months was not enough time to plan" Aubrey shrugged.

"So, at the risk of giving you advice, get married tomorrow." Booth said. "You don't have to tell anyone, if you don't want. You can still have a ceremony and reception later on, but you won't care as much about all the 'help' because you'll have done the important part."

"Yes, anthropologically speaking, many cultures have 2 rituals for weddings. A legal component and a religious or celebration component" Brennan added.

"Get married tomorrow?" Aubrey asked astounded. "That's impossible." Jessica stated in agreement.

"Our wedding was done in a day. And it was wonderful." said Brennan.

The younger couple stared at their mentors. Both had seen pictures on office desks. No way had that happened in a day.

Booth laughed at the expressions of disbelief on the younger couple. "Guess we need to tell them the story of our wedding, Bones."

They relayed their story, interrupting each other frequently. There was good natured bickering about whose fault it was the church burned down, but without realizing it, they kept turning to each other and smiling, by the time they finished their tale, they were holding hands on the table.

"Ok, so it can be done" said Jessica skeptically "but, we are missing Hurricane Angela. She and Curly are on vacation."

Booth shrugged. "If you keep it simple, you don't need Angela."

"We'd at least need to get a license, and an officiant" said Aubrey.

"Not a problem. I can handle that." The senior agent said confidently.

The younger couple exchanged glances again. "Well, do you want to?" "What do you think" "Yes." "Are you sure?" "Yes" Holding hands they turned towards the older couple and said "Let's do this."

"Are you sure?" asked Booth, "Because once I make this phone call, you're getting married tomorrow. No turning back. No changing your minds."

"We're sure."

The food arrived, everyone dug in except Booth. They listened as he made a phone call. "Hey Caroline. Who owes you a favor in the clerk's office? Oh, don't give me that, I know you have something on somebody, you always do. You need to cash it in. Because, who would you rather have owe you a favor - a lowly government employee in the clerks office or your two favorite FBI agents? Aubrey needs a marriage license for tomorrow. Set it up and text him the name and details. Yes, you heard me right. No, we only owe you one, not two because I know deep down you are a hopeless romantic Cheri." He hung up. "Give her 15 minutes. So, what time and where tomorrow?" He started eating.

Aubrey and Jessica debated back and forth, finally settling on a park in Georgetown where they would often sit and eat ice cream. "There's a great Thai restaurant around the corner for dinner afterwards" said Aubrey. "So, 4 o'clock?"

Booth grabbed his phone. "Aldo. No, I know what time it is. It's not THAT early. Shut up and listen ok? I need you at Georgetown Park tomorrow at 4, bring whatever official stuff to handle a wedding. Oh, come on, you know the bar is dead on a Thursday you can get someone to cover for you for an hour. Call Wendall if you need to, and tell him I'm cashing in the favor he owes me. Come on man. Ok, you know that 30 year old single malt Bones' publishing house sent? It's yours. Aubrey and Jessica. Yea, the ones that were engaged at Christmas. Deal. They'll meet you in the park tomorrow."

"You're going to sacrifice the good scotch? Oh, man, there is no way I can pay you back for that" Aubrey looked nervous.

"Relax, you don't have to. Once he found out it was you guys, he relented. I don't have to give him the bottle, but I can only drink it with him."

Aubrey's phone chimed. "It's from Caroline. We have an appointment with John at the clerks office at noon."

"Rings?" asked Booth

"We already have those. Picked them out when we had Jess' engagement ring sized."

"Okay, license, officiant, rings. What else?" Booth was grinning.

Jessica dug in her bag for her phone and a business card. She dialed a number and waited impatiently for the recipients voice mail to pick up. "Amber, this is is Jessica Warren, I was the redhead in your shop last weekend that fell in love with the ivory lace dress in the window and let my cousin talk me out of it. It was still there last night and I know you don't open till 10, but if you get this early, I'll be there as soon as possible to pick up that dress." She ended the call and beamed at her husband to be. "I've got a dress!"

"Flowers would be nice" offered Brennan softly.

Booth texted Aubrey a number. "Ask for Marie. She's the owner of the flower shop on M street. Tell her your my friend."

"Oh she does lovely bouquets" Brennan gushed.

The younger couple exchanged incredulous glances. Dr B was gushing? Booth was on a first name basis with a florist? Who knew?

Jessica was now beaming. "Oh wow. This is really happening?"

Aubrey was looking a little dazed. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Wait, we need one more thing. Witnesses." They looked at each other, then glanced across the table to their friends. "Would you mind?"

"We'd be delighted" said Dr. Brennan. "Let me call Max, I'm pretty sure he can watch the kids." She started looking for her phone.

"Actually, Dr. B." Jessica hesitated "I think a flower girl and ring bearer would make it a perfect day."

"Christine will be thrilled." said Brennan smiling.

Aubrey held his coffee cup in toast. "To our wedding"

"To a happy marriage" Booth replied. 4 mugs clinked. Two couples kissed.


	13. Aldo

A/N : After The Secret in the Service

It was 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon when Seeley Booth walked into Paradise Lost.

"We're closed." Aldo Clemens shouted without turning around from his task of unloading glasses.

"Not interested in drinking."

"Booth, you son of a... It's about damn time you showed up here." The two men shook hands, and Aldo lightly slapped the agent on the shoulder.

Booth sat at the bar and Aldo poured a cup of coffee and then studied his friend. He was dressed in faded jeans and a well worn Flyer's T-shirt. He looked tired, a little down, and in need of a shave. "Seriously man, how are you doing? I've been worried about you. You've been ignoring me."

"Come on Aldo, I've returned your calls." Booth said protesting.

"Yea, always at a time when you know I wouldn't pick up, so you can talk to voice mail. You've been avoiding me." Aldo accused and when he saw the agent wince, he knew he'd hit the target.

"Not my confessor, remember?" Booth said somewhat harshly.

Aldo shot back. "That's low. I'm still your friend, and it's not like I wouldn't know that you're having a hard time, I do read the papers you know."

Booth sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. Combination of not wanting you to have to watch me cry in my beer again, and the fact that I've had reporters on my ass off and on the last couple of weeks. Being seen skulking into a bar would have added fuel to the fire you know."

"Damn. Think of the lost publicity." Aldo shook his head in mock sadness. "FBI Special Agent Seeley J. Booth, hero of the recent foiled presidential assassination attempt, husband of best selling novelist Temperance Brennan and inspiration for the Andy Lister character in the Kathy Reichs books, was seen drowning his sorrows at THE trendy new DC bar, Paradise Lost."

Booth just glared over his coffee cup.

"Seriously, how are you doing? I imagine the political pressure on this has been insane. Quite frankly, I'm amazed your name has stayed out of the papers as much as it has."

"Yea. Well, you can thank Hodgins and his conspiracy nut friends for coming up with a second possible shooter, and Angela's computer skills for subtly promoting the idea. Of course, they don't know that I know what they did, but that sent half the press corps on a wild goose chase. And once I told the FBI PR department that I'd be happy to do interviews as long as they didn't mind me bringing up the fact that 2 years ago they had thrown me in prison, they decided that maybe they would let the Secret Service handle everything." Booth snorted. "Turns out going to jail became my get out of jail free card."

"But you're clear, right? I'm asking because either you are going undercover as a slob, or you're still on administrative leave."

"Very funny. IA just finished their investigation this morning, FBI shrink cleared me for active duty yesterday, so back to normal tomorrow."

"FBI shrink. Did you actually talk to him?" Aldo figured he knew the answer, but thought he'd at least pretend it was a possibility that Booth had actually confided in someone.

"The guy has a retirement countdown clock on his desk. The only thing he cared about was that I wasn't overtly homicidal or suicidal. Did just enough to cover his ass if I go postal next week."

"Ok, so no. Back to the question. Are you ok?"

"Yea, I'm fine, or will be eventually. You know how it goes. Lord knows we've done this dance often enough. That's part of the reason I haven't called. Just kept replaying previous conversations we've had on the topic of me killing someone. Figured you didn't have anything new to say this time around that you haven't told me multiple times over the years. I'm just a little pissed that I actually have a routine for this." Booth took another sip of his coffee and stared glumly at the wall.

Aldo laid a hand on his friends forearm. "I know. I'm sorry. But, you know if you need me to repeat myself, I can do it."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. I just need some time." Booth studied the bartender. "You look happy. Take it Marie hasn't come to her senses yet?"

Aldo smiled, thinking of the woman he'd been seeing for the past 6 months. "No, we're good. Still finding it odd to be dating at this stage in my life, but she's good. We're happy. Her kids are home from college for the summer. I meet them next week. Little nervous about that."

Booth smirked at that mental image. The two exchanged updates - it had been a couple of months since they'd seen each other. After a slow start, the bar business had picked up and was a favorite hangout of Hoover employees, so Aldo didn't have a lot of free time. As Booth relayed Parker, Christine and Hank updates he relaxed and smiled. Aldo became more convinced that with time, Booth would be ok and felt his worry lessen.

A little after 3 the chimes on the door rang again. Aldo called out "We're closed." Booth turned and looked at the young vet standing nervously in the doorway, and waved him in. He'd given him his card a few weeks ago at the shooting range but hadn't expected anything to come of it, so was pleasantly surprised to get a call yesterday. Booth had suggested meeting here, but the younger man had been vague about his plans. Booth said to Aldo "It's ok. He's with me. " Turning back to the doorway, "Come on in. Travis Boswell, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine - Aldo Clemens."

Handshakes were exchanged, Aldo poured another cup of coffee and left the two men to talk.


	14. Wendall

A/N : Thanks for feedback! Season 9 - after Big in the Phillipines, but before The High in the Low.

I don't own Bones, if I did, this would not be in canon.

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The text came in:

Wendall: Done will b outside

Booth grabbed some file folders and keys and headed to the oncology outpatient unit of Washington General. 10 minutes later he pulled up to the curb and Wendall threw his bag in the SUV and climbed in. He looked pale and tired but that was normal these days.

"Hey man, thanks for picking me up, and letting me crash at your place this weekend. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem, but just so you know, I'm a little pissed at you." Booth replied.

"Seriously? Don't cancer patients get any breaks? Seems a little harsh."

"Yea, well, YOUR MOM called me."

"I know. I'm sorry, I can't believe she did that. But, you know, my younger sister won that cruise and she and mom had been looking forward to it for months, my older brother has to work this weekend, and my older sister's kids are cycling through the chicken pox and ..."

Booth held up his hand. "I got the whole story from your mom. You were seriously considering going to couch surf at your crazy cat lady cousin Mildred's rather than call Bones and me? We shouldn't have been that far down your list of options."

"Oh." Wendall looked sheepish. "Well, it's just that, you know, this weekend won't be fun for anyone in my vicinity. I really hated to bother you guys."

"Wendall, you know when Bones said we'd do anything to help you, she meant it. Bones doesn't say stuff she doesn't mean. And I owe you big time for all the hours you came and helped me with Christine's tree house and preserved my sanity while they were gone. This weekend and any other time you need us is NOT a bother. Just get that out of your head right now." He let that sink in for a bit and then continued "It's just going to be us guys this weekend. Bones is on a publicity hop in New England and Max took Christine down to visit Russ, Amy and the girls. So, we can watch sports, not shave and I can watch you puke. It will be like being back in college only I won't have a hangover on Monday."

In spite of himself, Wendall smiled. Leave it to Booth to be blunt. He was still uneasy about the next couple of days. This was his third cycle of chemo and if ran like the last 2 he had about 4 hours before it would all hit and then he'd be miserable till Tuesday. He was actually a little grateful that Dr. B was out of town - it's one thing to puke in front of your friends, it's another thing to do it in front of your supervisor.

They pulled up to the Mighty Hut, grabbed their stuff and headed in. Wendall headed towards Parker's room to drop his stuff and send a couple of texts, while Booth changed out of his suit. Wendall headed down to the kitchen and found Booth rummaging through the fridge. He tossed Wendall a Gatorade as he walked in.

"So, I got the list of stuff your mom said was helpful - Gatorade, ginger ale, pudding, popsicles, crackers. There's antibacterial wipes and soap here, in your room and in the bathrooms. Anything you don't see that you want, just ask. I'm going to check in with your mom after she picks you up on Monday and if I find out that you didn't want to bother me, I'll come kick your ass. And I'm a trained in interrogation so she doesn't stand a chance holding out on me. Got it?" Booth finished and gave him the "don't-f-with-me-I'm-an-FBI-agent-and-retired-sniper-and-I-have-a-gun" glare.

"Got it." Wendall barely resisted the urge to salute.

"Good. I'm hungry. Don't know whether it's better for you to have something in your stomach when the nausea hits or not. I've been a bachelor for 2 days, so there's leftover Thai, leftover pizza, or Sid sent some chicken wonton soup over."

Wendall grabbed the soup and started to re-heat it, while Booth munched on cold pizza. After snacking, they headed upstairs to the man cave.

It had been a few weeks since Wendall had been in there. The stadium seats were still there, pushed along the wall, but in place of Booth's old couch there were 2 very new looking recliners. On one side of one of the chairs was a stack of blankets and a trash can. On the other a basket of Gatorade and bottled water. A table next to it held tissues and face wipes and the remote. "Wow, this place has been upgraded. The chairs look pretty cushy."

"They are. Bones got tired of me wrecking my back on the couch, so, she went shopping. The remote's all yours, I don't care which sport we watch as long as it's not soccer".

Wendall started flipping through the channels. It took a while because one of the advantages of having more established friends is that they could afford more than basic cable. The March Madness tournament was just beginning, so they had their choice of college basketball games. The chair was very comfortable and Wendall soon felt himself drift off. Booth looked over when he heard Wendall snoring, reached for the remote and turned the volume down and grabbed his paerwork. He figured Wendall could use all the sleep he could get.

A few hours later, right on schedule, the nausea hit. Wendall woke with a start and barely had time to grab the trash can before losing the soup. Booth didn't say a word, just waited till he finished, handed him a fresh can, took his empty Gatorade bottle and the full trash can and left to deal with it. When he returned he put a bowl with a warm wash cloth in it on the table.

Wendall wiped his face. "Thanks, man, I'm really sorry. "

Booth glared at him. "New rule. Unless you're acting like an ass, stop apologizing. As a veteran of frequent hospital stays, I can most likely win any embarrassing bodily fluids story contest hands down. I also have 2 kids and look at decomposing bodies for a living, so a little puke doesn't phase me. "

The intern had to smile at that. "Okay, I'll bite. What's your most embarrassing vomit story?"

"One of my first cases as an agent had a congressman as the leading suspect in his campaign manager's murder. The press was having a field day trying and convicting him. I found the real killer-a disgruntled ex lover, but got myself a concussion, knife wound and 12 stitches during the apprehension. Took hours to get through all the FBI debriefs and tests and I hadn't eaten all day. They brought in some food about a half hour before the congressman, his wife, and very attractive 26 year old daughter wanted a thank you meeting. As the daughter was flirting with me, the combo of headache, pain meds and antibiotics kicked in and I lost my dinner all over both the ladies very expensive designer shoes. With the Deputy Director of the FBI in attendance and a photographer capturing it in full color. Other agents heard about it, tracked down the photographer and got him to make 100 copies of the most graphic photo. They popped up around me for months afterwards."

Wendall laughed. "Yep, you won that round."

The next several hours fell into a predictable routine. Wendall would get sick, Booth would restock the supplies. Between rounds, they watched basketball and Wendall would doze. Finally close to midnight, Wendall said "I think I want to try and go to bed. I'll be okay till morning I think, you should get some sleep."

Wendall stood up, swayed a bit. Booth grabbed his arm to steady him and led him down the hall to Parker's room. After depositing Wendall on the edge of the bed, Booth left and returned with fluids and trash cans. "Need anything else for the night?" Wendall shook his head "Get some sleep, but if you need something just yell ok?" Wendall gave him a week thumbs up.

Booth headed to his room and spent a little extra time praying that night.

Saturday morning, Booth woke first, seeing the door to Parker's room ajar, he peeked in. Wendall was sleeping soundly and Booth was grateful for that. He headed downstairs.

It was late morning when Wendall finally came down.

"How are you doing this morning?" Booth asked.

"Tired mostly. Of course, I've kinda run out of things to throw up, so we'll see how it goes."

"Anything sound good to eat, do you want some coffee? I can make another pot."

"I'll try some pudding and a Gatorade. Based on previous experience, coffee doesn't do well. Which is too bad because, I really love the smell of it, even if I can't drink it. It's comforting."

He was trying to open the Gatorade bottle without success. He cursed under his breath. "Damnit. They warned me this could happen. My fingers are numb. Damnit, Damnit, Damnit!" He banged the bottle on the counter in frustration.

Booth grabbed the bottle and twisted off the cap and handed it to the intern. "Is the finger numbness temporary?"

"Most likely yes. It should go away in a couple of days, probably come back with the next round." He sighed. "Guess I just made a big deal out of nothing."

"Nope. When you can't do the little things, it has a way of making you crazy."

"That sounds like the voice of experience. So, any words of wisdom in how to stop the crazy?"

"Curse at inanimate objects." Booth said solemnly.

"I think I just did that. It didn't help."

Booth shook his head. "Nah, you REALLY have to cuss at them, use creative vocabulary. Damnit doesn't cut it."

Wendall looked at the agent skeptically.

"Army hospital. I wake up at some point, really thirsty - cotton mouthed, dry as the desert thirsty. Someone has pushed the table with the cup on it about an inch farther than I can reach easily. Can't find the damn call button. Don't have the voice to wake up my roommate. I manage to touch the cup and I knock it over. Turns out it was empty anyway. I am mad as hell. Finally a volunteer comes in, sees the problem and gives me some water. I get my voice back and start swearing a blue streak before I really take a look at her - when I run out of breath, I look up and see that she could be part of my grandmother's knitting group and I've just cussed her out six ways till Sunday. I mumble an apology to her and she gives me a glare worthy of Ms. Julian and walks out. "

"The next day she comes in with an ugly bulldog figurine. Says that she has 4 sons and 6 grandsons and none of them are allowed to swear in her presence and she isn't going to take it from me either. However, the bulldog handles abuse just fine. She leaves it on the table and heads out. I spent the next half hour thinking of every vulgar phrase I had ever heard and whispering it to that damn dog. Next time she came in, we had a polite chat. By the time I was discharged she was bringing me cookies, and until she moved to Florida I'd swing by and say hi when I was in the area. I never cussed around her again, but man that bulldog got an earful."

The intern shook his head in disbelief. Then, seeing the appeal of the approach, he stared at one of Christine's stuffed animals and mentally cussed it out.

Booth watched the younger man and could almost hear the expletives. He put on a fresh pot of coffee. As the aroma filled the kitchen he saw Wendall sniff appreciatively.


	15. Max

A/N: During the Partners in the Divorce because it's my opinion that Booth probably need a little more reassurance than Sweets gave him.

Max Keenan walked into the Royal Diner and saw the man he thought of as his son in law sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand and an untouched piece of apple pie in front of him. Booth not eating pie. This wasn't good. Taking the stool next to the agent, Max turned over his own cup and asked without preamble "Who peed in your cornflakes?"

Booth turned in surprise, he'd been lost in thought and hadn't seen the older man come in. Hoping to avoid conversation, he replied "No one. I'm fine." and took a bite of the pie.

"Don't try to con an old con. You reek of the firing range, I've been watching you for five minutes and a) you didn't notice and b) that's the first bite of pie you've had. So, something or someone is definitely irritating you. Given that I'm not in the best of moods myself, I suggest you just come out with it and save us both the trouble."

"Why are you in a bad mood?" Booth decided deflection was worth a shot.

"I miss my daughter and granddaughter." Max replied bluntly. "I got to spend pretty much every day with 'em for three months. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that it's all over, but I miss them." He studied the agent as he spoke, noting the increase in tension in the younger man. "Since my loss is your gain, why aren't you happier?"

Booth clenched the mug tighter in his hand and stared straight ahead. Max watched the muscles in the younger man's jaw tighten and could almost hear the teeth grinding. "Oh my god!" Max said in horror. "You're upset they're back? But you were so glad when Tempe was cleared! You've changed your mind? Don't tell me you found someone else? You did, that's it isn't? "

He was interrupted by Booth banging his fist on the counter. "Shut UP Max!" He spit out. "I can't believe you would even think that. Having them back is all I wanted for 3 damn months. What kind of asshole do you think I am?"

Max did his best to not shiver at the look in the agents eyes. He had misread the man and was well aware that a pissed off Booth could be hazardous to ones health. He held his palms up, "I'm sorry. Obviously I jumped to the wrong conclusion. So why don't you tell me what's wrong and set me straight."

"Nothing's wrong. Bones and Christine are back. We're great. Bones has been regaling me with tales of life on the run. Sleeping under bridges, working as a short order cook, trying carousels and surviving just fine without me. It's all good." He tried and failed to not sound bitter.

"And you were stupid enough to believe her?"

"Bones doesn't lie." The agent started poking at his pie.

Max let out a sigh. "You're right. Tempe doesn't lie, but it sounds like she left out some things too."

"Like what?" Booth snapped.

"Like the fact that I must have printed out 6 copies of the baptism picture because it disintegrated after she kept folding it in her pocket and taking it out to look at the three of you being happy. Like the nights I heard her lulling Christine to sleep by telling her stories of her daddy and how much he loved the both of them. Or the nights I could hear her sobbing into her pillow. Or the time I walked in on her reading the hotel copy of the Bible. When I questioned her about it, she said that you found comfort in it and thought she'd try and see if it worked."

Booth just stared at him.

Max took a sip of his coffee, "You know, it's a damn good thing you two found each other. No sense in ruining two other lives with the level of subborness you guys are capable of. She told you the parts where she was strong, because she needs to convince herself that she is still the same independent woman she was before you. But, she was miserable without you Booth. She loves you, and she missed you as much as you missed her. And it killed her to know that she had hurt you by taking your daughter away."

Booth looked the older man in the eye and knew he was telling the truth. He felt the knot in his stomach start to unravel. He rubbed his hand over his face as he tried to process what he'd just been told.

"So are you done being dumb?" Max asked with a grin to soften his words.

Booth let out a small chuckle and said, "Yea Max. Thanks. We'll figure this out."

"Glad I could help. Just am a little surprised that you needed this spelled out to you."

Booth chewed on a bite of pie as he contemplated his reply. "Sorry. I've had women leave in the past, this is the first time anyone's come back. Guess I had to learn."

Now it was Max's turn to feel chagrined. The agents response had been matter of fact, but Max knew the pain behind the words. He just nodded.

Booth started eating his pie with enjoyment. Between bites he said, "Come over for dinner on Sunday. I know they miss you too."

"I'd like that very much son."


	16. Jessica

A/N. Thanks to **mphs95** for the request and the idea. Hope it doesn't disappoint. Season 11 after The Fight in the Fixer.

Special Agent Seeley Booth sat outside the coffee cart on a sunny but cold spring Thursday afternoon. He didn't mind the cold, just was happy to get out of the office. The morning had been spent in a windowless conference room listening to a bureaucrat from accounting drone on about the new expense report format. He was a little ashamed to admit he had sent up a prayer for a body to be found just to get out of the education session.

He was doing his standard people watching when he noticed Jessica Warren standing in line. Reading her body language, she was a tense and Booth figured out his partner James Aubrey was the most likely culprit. It had been two days since Aubrey had found out that his fugitive father was back in the country and actively stalking his son, and the younger agent was not taking it well.

Jessica had worked through lunch finishing up on a set of bones from storage. She was supposed to have had lunch with Aubrey but he had bailed on her at the last minute, citing paperwork. She recognized the excuse as flimsy at best, but had been unable to convince him to change his mind. Needing to clear her head she decided a catnip tea break was in order. She desperately wanted to talk to someone about how to help Aubrey, but she wasn't sure who. Angela and Hodgins would be happy to offer advice, but she wasn't sure how much they knew about the situation and it seemed like it would be a breach of trust to enlighten them. Dr. B. while brilliant, wasn't always the best person to deal with emotion. It was then she noticed Booth alone at a table in the corner.

She mentally ran through what she knew about the senior agent, and had to conclude that her first hand knowledge was limited. Most of what she knew about him had been gleaned through Aubrey and the Jeffersonian staff. When they had met at the hospital after Aubrey and Hodgins were injured, both of them had been distracted. The few other social occasions she had seen him at he was friendly, but tended to hang on the fringes of the group. He also had a knack for engaging you in conversation and it was only later you realized that you had done most of the talking. She knew that he was aware of Aubrey's situation and that he considered Aubrey family. Her tea ready, she debated for another moment then reminded herself that being passive and patient had never been a strong point and Aubrey knew that. She headed towards Booth.

Booth saw the red head approach and took a deep breath. She was definitely a woman on a mission.

"Good afternoon Agent Booth. Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Hey Jessica. Have a seat. How are things?" He smiled at her.

She hesitated a bit. There was still an opportunity to do small talk. But, then, she reasoned not really. He interrogated suspects for a living, she didn't stand a chance. Not wanting either of them to work that hard, she looked him in the eye and took a deep breath. "I'm worried about Aubrey, and this whole thing with his dad. He's not happy, and I want to make it better, but I'm feeling a little out of my depth here. I grew up in an odd situation, but I always had my family around, so I can't imagine having a parent disappear for years. Let alone a parent that is a fugitive. But I know that Dr. B has an interesting dad and I'm guessing you helped her navigate that mine field so I'm wondering if you have any advice for me because this isn't something you can ask Siri about or Google 'Coping with being stalked by the father you helped put in jail' and find a support group."

Booth took a sip of his coffee, inwardly smiling at the description of Max being 'interesting'. He turned to study the young woman, he knew Aubrey was crazy about her, but the relationship had only recently moved beyond friendship. The fact that she was so worried indicated the feelings were mutual. He finally spoke, "Advice? Guess my first advice would be that you can't fix this for Aubrey, you can only help him fix it for himself."

She sighed, "I was afraid that would be the case. So, now what?"

"Mainly just listen."

"But that's the problem, he won't talk about it."

He shrugged, "Make him. Sit him down and give him some squinty explanation on why you need to talk about it. He'll do anything for you."

She looked at him skeptically. "Squinty explanation?"

He fidgeted with his coffee cup. "Yea. Quantum time theory, laws of physics, anthropological theories of the paternal relationship, whatever you can come up with. Just give a plausible reason why YOU need to discuss it and he'll start talking."

"That's how you got Dr. B to talk about her dad?" she asked, a little confused.

He laughed. "No, I don't ever try to out squint Bones."

She looked at him closely and the light dawned. "Oh, that's how Dr. B. gets you to talk!" He nodded in confirmation. She sipped her tea as she contemplated this new information.

"Ok, I can see where that would work. " She sighed. "He's pretty angry though."

"Yea. Talking about it will help, but basically it takes time. He'll figure out that the anger only hurts himself if you keep reminding him."

She drank more of her tea, not sure if she should say what she was thinking. "I'm getting a vibe that you have some personal experience similar to Aubrey and his dad. It's not just through Dr. B?" She saw his jaw tense and wondered if she'd pushed too far.

"Your vibe is correct." He finally admitted. He took a drink, buying time as he considered whether to elaborate. "My parents weren't criminals, but I didn't exactly win the mom and dad lottery. Unfortunately, no matter how lousy your parents are, you still love them. At least a little bit."

Her phone dinged. A text from Aubrey. "Dinner 2night?" She felt hope that at least she wasn't being shut out any more, and she now had a game plan. Her tea finished she turned to Booth and said, "Thank you, I feel better."

"Glad I can help. Aubrey will be okay. He's got you by his side."

She smiled and replied, "And you and Dr. B in his corner."


	17. Clark

A/N Inspired by the Foot in the Foreclosure - without those few lines of dialogue this chapter would have been reduced to "Two men drank coffee."

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Clark Edison was doing his cool down after an early Saturday morning run on the Mall when he spotted a familiar if unexpected figure near the Korean War Memorial. Not sure if Booth would be seeking company, he slowed his pace a little more to try and gauge the agents mood. It had been three weeks since his release from prison, and Booth was understandably still on edge. Clark hoped for the agents sake he would soon find peace, the guy definitely deserved it.

As Clark neared him he noted with sadness the changes in the FBI man. He'd lost weight, his normally tan skin was pale and his posture was tense. Like most law enforcement he had always been aware of his surroundings, but now he was hyper alert and seemed to do an evaluation of every person he saw gauging their danger to him. Right on cue, Booth spotted him and offered a small wave to the scientist. Clark walked over, "Hey Booth. Surprised to see you around here. " Taking in the agents attire of sweats, " Out for a morning run?"

Booth grimaced a bit, "No just out. Ribs aren't healed enough for running yet."

"Kinda early to be out and about." Clark commented and then wanted to kick himself. It was obvious that Booth hadn't been sleeping well and he felt like an ass for bringing attention to it right after after he'd reminded him of his injuries.

"Yea, Bones told me to get lost." At the shocked look on Clark's face, Booth quickly amended, "Just for a couple of hours. " Damn, he thought, the last thing he needed was rumors of marital problems on top of everything else, not that Clark would spread rumors. Trying to explain he added, "Christine is having some separation anxiety. She's fine if both of us are gone, but she freaks out a bit if Bones is home without me. So, we told her last night that I'd be gone when she woke up but she could call and I'd come home."

"Oh. Damn, that's rough. "

Booth shrugged. That pretty much summed up his life these days.

"So what brings you here?" Clark asked desperately trying to find a topic of conversation without emotional land mines.

"Um, today would be Pops 86th birthday. I won't make it to the cemetery today, but, this was one of his favorite spots in DC."

And, strike three Clark thought. "I'm sorry. I got to meet your grandfather at the wedding. He seemed like a great guy. Reminded me a lot of my Gramps."

Booth offered a half smile at the recollection. Pops had died six months after the wedding, but he had thoroughly enjoyed the reception. "Thanks. He was." Booth noted Clarks damp t-shirt and jacket, "I should let you go, you've gotta be getting cold."

"Little bit" Clark admitted, "There's a cafe about a block from here. Their vegan cinnamon rolls are the reason I run on Saturdays. Care to join me? We can swap grandfather stories." Seeing Booth's horrified reaction he added, "they have regular cinnamon rolls too."

Booth thought about declining then realized that the company would be helpful, he still had an hour or so before Christine woke. Truth be told it was not just his daughter that was having separation anxiety. This was his first non work related outing on his own and he was fighting the urge to just call the whole thing off and go home. He nodded to Clark, "Sounds good. Lead the way."

It was still early enough that the cafe was mostly empty which made Booth relax a bit. He still wasn't handling crowds in unfamiliar places very well. Pastries and coffee purchased, they sat at a table in the corner. Booth took a bite of the cinnamon roll, closed his eyes and let out a small groan of pleasure. Clark smiled at that, finally he had done something right.

They ate in silence for a while. Halfway through the gooey treat Clark said, "So, grandfather stories. Why did yours call you Shrimp? He was about to tell Hodgins at the wedding, but then Ms. Julian came over and your grandfather decided he'd rather dance with her than chat with us."

Booth chuckled at the memory of the pair on the dance floor. "When I was about 4 I told Pops that I hated my name. He asked what I wanted to be called and I said anything but Seeley. He was never clear on the reason for Shrimp other than it was a favorite food. " He shrugged, "Or I might have been an ugly baby and he was trying to spare my feelings. Anyway, I think he figured I would change my mind about Seeley but I thought Shrimp was an improvement, so it stuck. Did yours give you a nickname?"

Clark nodded, "Doc. I was the youngest of his 30 grand children and he was determined that at least one of us would be a doctor. I'm not sure that I'm the kind of doctor he had in mind, but I think he'd be okay with it. He died when I was in middle school."

"That must have been tough. Sounds like you were close."

"Yea. He lived with us. My grandmother died shortly before I was born, and he didn't want to be alone and with ten kids my parents could use the help. I'm the youngest by 6 years so it was kind of easy for me to get lost in the shuffle. He made sure I didn't. He was a retired teacher, but had dreamed of getting more than a teaching certificate before a family responsibility, lack of finances and opportunity made him settle. But, he never stopped learning and he was always reading stuff to me. National Geographic was a favorite. He's definitely the reason I got into science."

Booth smiled, "Pops claimed his tales as an MP led me to the FBI. He was probably right."

"Did he serve in Korea?" Clark asked.

"Yea. Most of his career was stateside, but he spent a year over there. That's why the memorial was a favorite spot. Plus, he thought the statues there were amazing."

They continued to exchange tales of the men that had meant so much to them and determined that their grandfathers would have enjoyed each others company. Booth was surprised when his phone rang and he realized they'd been talking for over an hour, the rolls long gone but the staff had kept their cups refilled. He explained to his daughter that he was having coffee with Uncle Clark and he'd be home soon. The scientist smiled at the moniker, any remaining desire to keep out of his colleagues personal lives had been destroyed with the arrivals of Michael Vincent and Christine.

Coffee finished, they left the cafe, shook hands, and went about their respective days.

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Reviews appreciated!


	18. Gordon Gordon Wyatt

A/N: Thank you to all for the encouragement and reviews. This one is a result of JAG'ed Bones in the Cackett suggestions. Early in season 11.

His cell rang, "Booth" he answered with his customary greeting, not bothering to check caller id.

A British accent replied, "Ah, Agent Booth. Delighted to hear your voice again. It's been far too long. I am sorry to trouble you, but I am in need of your assistance."

"Chef Gordon Gordon. " Booth was glad to hear from the psychiatrist turned chef, but felt a pang of guilt. The last time he had talked to the man had been the phone call to inform him of Sweets' murder a little over a year ago. "How can I help you?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I would prefer to talk in person. I am afraid it's a rather delicate matter. Would you mind popping around 3 o'clock? "

"You're back in DC? " Booth was surprised. Wyatt had returned to England shortly before his and Bones' wedding due to his sister's illness.

"Yes, I returned two months ago, I apologize for not contacting you sooner, but opening a new restaurant is a bit of process."

"New place? Give me the info."

Booth walked into the kitchen and sniffed appreciatively. It was between the lunch and dinner service, but whatever was on the menu for this evening smelled delightful. The place was a buzz of activity with the Chef barking out instructions. He stopped when he saw the agent, shaking his hand warmly in greeting exclaiming, " Thank you so much for coming. Tell me, have you had lunch?"

"Um, yea, I had a bite earlier. " His lunch had been a cup of ramen noodles out of the vending machine. " You had something you needed my help on?"

The chef looked at him skeptically as Booth's stomach rumbled. "Well, whatever you dined on earlier, it seems to have been unsatisfactory. Come sit. My situation can wait and is best if you are in the proper frame of mind. That is assuming you don't have pressing business at the FBI?" Booth shook his head, they had closed a case yesterday and the since it was his first week back, he didn't have a backlog yet. "Excellent, chef's table please!" He clapped his hands and immediately sous chefs set up a small table in the center of the kitchen, water was poured and small plate of God only knows what was placed in front of the agent.

Booth knew better than to ask. He just popped the bite in his mouth. He grinned, whatever it was it was good. "So, what brings you back to DC?"

"My sister has sufficiently recovered and I find that the American palate is much more conducive to creativity than the British one. I mean, you Yanks do have some tastes that can not be forgiven, pigs in a blanket for example, but for the most part you are far more adventurous in your dining."

Booth shook his head, "It's probably best that you didn't make the wedding. I don't think I could have remained polite as you insulted God's perfect food at the reception."

"We will have to agree to disagree on that topic. I was sorry to have not made it to your nuptials, but family duty called. After so many years in the making, I'm sure it was quite the celebration. And belated congratulations on the birth of your son. He's what, 4 months old now?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"Well despite the fact that you haven't responded to my emails for a while Agent Booth, I do have my sources. And you have my sympathy on the loss of your brother. "

Soup was placed in front of him. He took a spoonful as a stall tactic as he formulated his response. "Thank you. I'm sorry for ignoring your emails. If it helps, it wasn't personal. After Sweets died I let a lot of things slide. "

"Understandable, given the turmoil in your life at the time. Prior to your imprisonment Dr. Sweets and I corresponded frequently regarding his book on you and Dr. Brennan. Once you were jailed, the book was obviously not a concern, but he kept me abreast of the events. In a six month period if I recall, you lost your grandfather, your home, your health, your freedom, your trust in the FBI and your government, and your best friend. You seemed to have coped well enough, so I will not begrudge a lack of correspondence. "

Booth snorted. "Your sources overestimated my coping abilities. " He focused on his soup, a roasted squash concoction that made him actually like vegetables.

The chef looked at him intently, " Please enlighten me. I was under the impression that you are currently a functioning member of society, happily married and a devoted father. "

"I am now." He sighed, " 7 months after I got out of jail I started gambling again. I lied to Bones about it for a month till she caught me and threw me out of the house. We're back together, and I've been sober for 6 months, but I came damn close to losing everything. "

"I see. Well, I still stand by my assessment. " He took in Booth's stare. " By your timetable, your sobriety started right about the time Dr. Brennan gave you the ultimatum. Am I correct?" Booth nodded. "So, when faced with the consequences of your regrettable choices, you immediately took action to repair the damage. "

"Regrettable choices? That's quite the euphemism. " Booth said incredulously as his empty soup cup was removed and replaced with a plate of sliced filet, garlic mashed and roasted beets.

"Alas, I can see this is another topic where I fear we will not come to agreement. So, let's change course shall we? I understand you've recently returned to the FBI? And Dr. Brennan to the Jeffersonian? "

"Don't you have something you need my help on? "

"Yes, yes, of course in due time. But since I'm indulging your preference for meat and potatoes, please indulge my curiosity."

Booth had to admit it was the best beef he'd had in a while, so he gave Gordon Gordon a brief summary of the events - the burglary which resulted in Jared's death and his injury, the confusion in the identification of the body, his hospitalization and the decision to return to their old jobs.

"Were you and he close? "

"Not really. We were when we were kids, but as we got older we drove each other crazy. We had a falling out a couple years ago. "

"Your childhood closeness no doubt as a result of being united against a common enemy" the chef surmised, and it was confirmed by the agents slight nod. "But obviously you had mended your differences since you were working with him at the time of his death."

Booth paused in between bites. "Sort of. " He debated on elaborating, but he trusted Gordon Gordon and he was very aware that his life was complicated right now - new routine at home, sorta new job, his brothers death, just recovered from a significant injury. While he currently didn't feel the need to gamble, he desperately wanted to minimize the chances of dealing with that demon. If talking to a chef could stop an emergency phone call to his sponsor he'd talk. "Jared had a habit of getting into trouble and I had a habit of bailing him out. He also had an alcohol problem. He tried, but never kicked it for very long. When he was sober I'd help, but if he was drinking I wouldn't and then he'd get pissed at me. "

"I see. How many times had he fallen off the wagon so to speak? "

"This was his fourth go around. He was sober for a couple of years, then when he and his wife started having problems he started drinking again. Then it seemed like every 6 months or so they'd swap between on again/off again and so would he. Was never clear to me whether he drank because they had problems or they had problems because he drank. "

"And were you angry at him for drinking?"

"Sad is probably closer to it. I just wish he could have gotten it together. "

"Do you feel guilty about his death?"

He opened his mouth to say no, when he caught the chef looking at him knowingly. He sighed, "A little bit. I know there was nothing I could have done once the shooting started, but I keep wondering if there was something I could have done to not have him in that room."

"Interesting. "

"You know, I really hate it when you shri.. chefs say interesting. " Booth sounded slightly annoyed.

"Well, from everything that you've told me, this was all Jared's idea. The only reason you got involved is that he got a conscience when he found out that the the ultimate goal was selling a list of undercover agents to the highest bidder and asked for your assistance. Yet you feel like it was your fault he was there. "

"He was my little brother. I've been taking care of him since I was five."

"And what about Dr. Sweets?"

"What about him? " Booth snapped.

"He was your little brother too, metaphorically speaking. Was it your responsibility to protect him?"

Booth's jaw tensed. "Yes. "

"And do you think you failed?"

"I think it's safe to say I made some mistakes there. I should have issued the warrant. "

"Ok, if I can summarize here. From you point of view, you should have done more to protect Jared and Dr. Sweets deaths, even though they were grown men. In the case of Jared, he deliberately put himself in a dangerous situation, and in the case of Dr. Sweets there was no way of knowing that his actions were dangerous. Did I misunderstand?"

"No, but..."

Gordon Gordon held up his hand, "Would you expect Christine to be responsible for Hank?"

"Of course not."

"Tell me, who protects you?"

Having a hard time keeping up with the chef, Booth said tersely "I can take care of myself."

"Might I suggest you do a better job of it?"

Now he was completely lost. He just stared at Gordon Gordon.

The chef added gently, " Or at least have the same expectations of yourself as you do others. You've been blaming yourself to some extent for actions of full grown adults. You have taken responsibility for your brother from a very young age, even though you would never dream of asking your daughter to do the same. You've expressed disgust with yourself when you admitted to a gambling relapse after 11 years of sobriety and a series of horrific life events. However, you seem to have given your brother multiple attempts to get his life in order. "

Booth hung his head in his hands, "I hurt a lot of people".

"Yes, yes of course, and that isn't trivial. By all means hold yourself accountable for your actions. But perhaps you should forgive yourself for them as well. " Deciding he'd given the agent enough to think about he motioned to Booth's plate and continued "Now if I do say so myself, those potatoes should not go to waste. " He got up to fix himself a cup of tea.

Booth finished his lunch and found his empty place replaced with a slice of apple pie and a cup of coffee. He could not contain a grin of delight. Gordon Gordon exclaimed, "Ah yes, at last we get to the matter on which I require your assistance." Seeing the agents confused expression, "You see, my pastry chef has been experimenting with a new recipe for apple pie. I'm afraid it's a dessert that I don't particularly care for, so I require your expert opinion on whether it is acceptable."

"You called me here for a pie problem?" Booth took a bite, closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yes, I need to know if the blend of sugar is correct, and whether or not there is a proper ratio of cinnamon."

He took another bite, letting the pastry melt in his mouth. "It's perfect. But then you knew that."

Gordon Gordon smiled. Of course he had known. Just as he had known that the agent might have been able to decline an invitation to come around and chat, a request for help would be responded to immediately. And while he wasn't a psychiatrist any longer, nor did he want to be, the agent didn't need psychiatric help, he just needed a friend. "The chef will be experimenting with cherry pie in two weeks. Would you mind lending your expertise again? Say 3 o'clock?"

Booth sipped his coffee, "I can do that."


	19. Pops

It was a bright spring Saturday, which was welcome after the long winter. Hank Booth was soaking up the sun on a park bench, waiting for his grandson to return from a nearby shop and enjoying watching Christine and Tempe playing on the swings and relishing the sound of his great granddaughter's laughter. He saw Seeley strolling across the park with a drink carrier and paper bag in his hands. Hank smiled knowing that the bag likely contained some sweet treat which he and Shrimp would enjoy thoroughly while Temperance looked on with disapproval. As he watched his grandson approach, Hank offered up thanks that at long last the boy was happy and that he had lived long enough to see it.

His thoughts drifted back, as they often did these days, to the past, and the first time he and Seeley had shared coffee.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hank was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee not reading the morning paper. His mind was busy thinking about his grandsons, particularly his oldest. Seeley and Jared had been living with Hank and Mary for a little over a month. To an outsider all looked well - the boys had adjusted to their new home and were doing well in school, Jared was happy and outgoing and all of Hank's friends commented on what a good kid Seeley was. That was the problem in a nutshell, Hank thought. Shrimp was quiet, polite, did chores and homework without complaint, watched over his little brother and kept their room clean. He made no demands on his grandparents, not even asking for seconds at meals although he would eat them heartily if offered. It was not normal for a twelve year old boy to be that cooperative. Hank longed for the boy to relax enough to be a kid, but he was at a loss as to how to make that happen.

Hank had been a witness to at least the end of the last beating Edwin had given Seeley and it made him sick to think about what his son was capable of. The bruises inflicted on his grandson had only recently disappeared. Hindsight being 20/20 he could guess how long the abuse had been going on, but neither of the boys would talk about it. Jared had let some things slip, but Shrimp never volunteered any information and was a master at changing the topic if asked. Hank and Mary were leery of causing the boy any more discomfort and so didn't press the issue.

It was still pretty early when the boy walked in, rubbing his eyes. This had been happening more often, and Hank suspected bad dreams were the reason, but when questioned why he was up so early, Seeley would just shrug and say he didn't know what woke him up. As he looked at his groggy grandson Hank sent up yet another prayer for guidance. "Morning Shrimp! Did you sleep well? Hey, before you sit down, can you give me a refill?"

Seeley nodded, grabbed the coffee pot and poured his grandfather a cup. Going to replace the pot on the burner, he misjudged the edge of the counter and struck the bottom of the carafe shattering it, sending coffee and glass shards all over the floor. Seeley stood for a second, stunned and holding the handle. He looked at his grandfather, stricken and immediately stammered "I'm sorry Pops, I'll clean it up." He stepped towards the sink when Hank yelled "Stop, don't move!" The boy froze and gasped.

Hank was busy contemplating the best way to get his barefooted grandson out of the middle of glass and hot coffee. He pulled a chair over and motioned for the boy to sit. When Seeley didn't move, Hank raised his hand to push the boy into the chair, and felt his heart stop when the boy flinched. It was then he took a good look at his grandson. The boy was staring at the floor, holding the handle in both hands as if his life depended on it, jaw clenched, entire body stiff. Anger flared in him - anger at his son for hurting this kid and anger at himself for taking too long to recognize the signs. Doing everything in his power to reign his temper in, Hank bent slightly so that he was at eye level with the boy and said gently, "Shrimp, you need to sit down. I don't want you to cut your feet any more. "

There was still no response. Hating himself, Hank made his voice harsher and commanded, "Seeley, look at me." That broke whatever trance the boy was in, as he met his grandfather's eyes nervously. "Sit down". The boy quickly obeyed. Hank pulled the chair out of the mess, "Stay here son, I'm going to get a first aid kit." He pulled three pieces of glass out of Seeley's feet, bandaged them and applied aloe gel to the red blotches where the coffee had splashed. The boy never made a sound even though Hank knew it had to hurt. Doctoring finished, he fought the urge to hug, knowing that Seeley didn't like to be touched. Giving them both time to compose themselves Hank told Seeley to stay put and set about cleaning up the mess.

When order was restored, Hank looked at his grandson again. Seeley hadn't moved and still looked like he was waiting for the blows to fall. Hank pulled the kids chair back to the table and than sat back down in his own. Hank sighed, this sort of thing was not his strong point. He hoped to find the right words to put the boy at ease. Finally he blurted, "Shrimp, do you want some coffee? "

That was probably the last thing the kid expected to hear. Dumbly he nodded. Grateful to have something to do with his hands he fixed the boy a cup, heavy on milk and sugar and then confessed, "I always think better with a mug in my hands." When Shrimp didn't respond Hank continued, "I think we need to have a talk here or at least I need to talk and you need to listen. Have I ever lied to you?"

Hank could almost see the gears turning in Seeley's brain. Before the boy could answer he added, "I mean about anything important. Fishing lies and not telling your grandma about my cigars don't count." That was the loophole that needed to be closed, so the boy shook his head.

"Ok, then you know I am not lying to you now. No matter how many things you break, how big of a mess you make, I will never raise a hand to you or Jared. I might yell if I get mad or scared, but that is all I will do. I promise. This is your home now, and you boys are safe, and your grandmother and I love you very much and will never hurt you. Do you believe me?"

Seeley looked at his grandfather, wanting to believe. Finally he nodded.

"Good. I've said my piece. Anything on your mind?"

The boy looked like he was about to say something, but instead took a sip of his coffee. Hank smiled at the expression on his grandson's face as he tried to decide if he liked the brew. Seeley caught his grandfather's grin and returned it, then tentatively asked, "Could we have pancakes for breakfast?"

Hank nodded. He started grabbing the supplies, thrilled that his grandson had finally asked for something. It was a baby step in the right direction.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That was the first of many cups of coffee with his grandson. There was THE TALK that came after Seeley came home with Vanessa Taylor's lip gloss on his collar. The endless cups as Mary's illness progressed and then more when she passed away. The happy morning when the scholarship letter was opened. High school graduation, leaving for college. Returning from college with his arm in a sling and another letter, this one cancelling the scholarship which lead to mornings of discussing options, followed by a departure for basic training. Then there was the return from the army when the mornings started with shouting, and were quickly followed by the sound of crutches pacing. Not knowing what else to do, Hank would put on a pot and send up a extra set of prayers that his grandson would be able to do what his son could not - find a way back from the horrors of war. After the recovery, the kitchen table sessions became less frequent as Seeley went on one mission after another. Each leave he returned to his grandfather a little quieter and a little more tense. Then finally he had enough with the army and came with news of a job at the FBI.

The bittersweet morning when Seeley announced he was going to be a father but not a husband. Hank was actually okay with the latter, but sad that his grandson was crushed. Meeting Parker for the first time, and the many Sundays after mass when the two of them would come visit. Coffee at the safe house after he told the FBI director national security be damned, find a way for him to see with his own eyes that his grandson was ok. The confusing couple of weeks at Shrimp's apartment after his brain surgery when he struggled to remember his life. The last cups in the old house as they packed Hank up to move to the assisted living center. The day Seeley, with bloodshot eyes, explained that Temperance would only ever be his partner. Then the seven months without visits as Shrimp was in Afghanistan. The return where Hank had to bite his tongue as Seeley told him of the new woman in his life. Then the period where Seeley was heartbroken and it took all of Hank's willpower to not break his promise of long ago and slap his grandson upside the head. The joyous morning when the two of them came to tell him not only had they come to their senses but that another great grandchild was on the way . Meeting Christine. The horrible period where they would sit in silence because Parker was in London and Christine and Temperence were god knows where. The day they'd come to announce their engagement, when neither of them could stop smiling. The wedding.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx

His reverie was interrupted when Shrimp nudged him with a cup.

"You were a million miles away there Pops. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing, just coffee."


	20. Zack

A/N: After The Hope in the Horror, contains spoilers for that episode.

Booth was sitting in his office staring out the window when the phone rang.

"Agent Booth, I request your presence at your earliest convenience." Dr. Zack Addy's voice commanded and then disconnected.

As if he wasn't in a foul enough mood already. Sleep had been elusive in the last week between Bones' nightmares, kidnapping and having to take a life. He had just come from the review board on the shooting of Dr. Roshan and while there was no doubt that they would rule in his favor, the FBI mandated bureaucracy had taken its toll on his patience. Now was not the time for a squint summons.

The phone call at least acted as a wake up from brooding. Frowning, he grabbed his urgent pile (and why was THAT one always the biggest?) and started plowing through the files. Two hours later the pile was gone. It was rare that he had that much time without interruptions but he knew the 'Approach with Caution' warning had gone out around the bullpen so for most of his agents it would have taken an alien invasion before they'd darken his doorway. He debated on starting the important pile and then decided that he wasn't in the mood and if he finished too much paperwork in a day his admin would likely go into cardiac arrest. Not wanting that on his shoulders he grabbed his jacket and keys and headed towards the sanitarium, dropping off a pile of folders on his way.

The receptionist suggested he wait in the courtyard while she found Zack. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot in the lobby and grabbed a seat near the fountain. If nothing else at least he would get to soak up some sunshine today. He wondered briefly at what Zack wanted to see him for and then determined that there was no way he'd ever figure out how the kid's brain worked so he'd just be patient. He also wondered if it was okay to call him a kid anymore and then determined that he'd always think of Zack as a kid.

Further philosophical musings were halted when Zack arrived. There was awkward standing and staring. Zack didn't like to shake hands and Booth didn't like any other form of greeting. Eventually they just nodded at each other and sat. Booth waited a few seconds for Zack to speak, after all, he was the one who had requested the meeting, but finally lost his patience. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Agent Booth, I find that your recent actions have confused me, and I wish to understand why."

Booth snorted. HIS actions were confusing? He hadn't broken out of a loony bin, hacked into friends email accounts for years and kidnapped anyone. "You want me to tell you why you're confused?" he asked, incredulously.

Zack stared at him. "No. With your intelligence, you can't possibly comprehend how my brain works, so therefore it would be illogical to assume you can explain my confusion. What I meant was, I wish to understand your motivation behind your actions, specifically your reasons for killing Dr. Roshan."

Now it was Booth's turn to stare. Seriously? First the review board and now Zack? And Zack had to know that if he hadn't killed the doc, Zack would be dead, so why the question? He felt himself grow irritated and then took a look at the kid's face and saw the genuine confusion. Reminding himself that there was no malice behind the inquiry he took a deep breath, shrugged and said simply, "He was going to kill you. I had to stop him."

"But that is what is illogical. At the time of the shooting, you were unaware of my innocence. So, with the facts in your possession at that moment it was one killer attempting to harm another killer. Once the syringe was empty, you, with your training and your weapon could have easily overpowered Dr. Roshan and taken him into custody alive, yet you chose to save me. That choice has caused you obvious distress. Why did you make it?"

"Obvious distress?" Booth was surprised, in the two days since the shooting, most of the people who had dared to talk to him about it expressed their gratitude for stopping a serial killer. Only Bones understood his cosmic balance sheet, to everyone else it was one bad guy gone forever without the burden of trial prep. He was shocked that Zack, with his lack of people skills, seemed to understand that it wasn't that easy.

Zack looked at him impatiently. "Of course. While in the infirmary, you excused yourself. Between the acoustics of the attached bathroom and the odor on your breath when you returned, it was obvious that you had become physically ill. Given my knowledge of your experience with damaged bodies I came to the conclusion that it was not my wound that would cause such a reaction. My hypothesis has been further confirmed by your appearance today. Your skin tone lacks it's usual color and there are dark circles under your eyes indicating a lack of sleep. Am I wrong in my conclusion?"

"No."

"Then I must ask. Why? I had previously stated that you were not my friend, so it was illogical of you to act on a notions of camaraderie."

"I didn't do it out of friendship. " Booth sighed, trying to find the words to explain himself. "I never could stand by and watch somebody get hurt."

"That is a rational, if the person getting hurt is innocent. Yet, in your eyes I was not. " Zack persisted. He really couldn't follow the agents logic.

"I've always had my suspicions about your guilt in the murder. I never pressed it because I know enough about the law to know that your options at the time were prison or here, and the sanitarium was the best solution. "

Zack was shocked. "I don't understand. The evidence was there, I confessed. I plead guilty after coming to the conclusion that even though I hadn't killed anyone, I would have had the Master asked. It was only after I had the opportunity to kill Dr. Roshan and was unable to do so that I realized my conclusions were wrong. How could you have possibly suspected what I was unaware of?"

"The beetles." Seeing Zack's puzzlement he continued, "it was like the third case we worked. The guy that blew up in the SUV? We first thought it was a suicide bombing and then found out his brother had been poisoning him with dioxin? But Hodgins had to kill the beetles in order to run the tests. You were so upset at having to kill the bugs, I couldn't see how you had gone from that kid to a guy who murdered lobbyists in cold blood just because someone told him to."

"But people change. I changed after Iraq."

"Yea, going to a war zone changes you. But in my experience, people don't really change that much. Going to war exaggerates your faults and your virtues. The guys that didn't mind violence before the war aren't as bothered by their actions during it. The ones that see it as a necessary evil do what they have to do and then spend a lot of time beating themselves up over it later, trying to figure out if it was necessary. The ones who have the hardest time adjusting afterwards are the ones that were the gentlest going in."

Zack sighed. "Even if I accept your logic, I still am having a hard time understanding your actions."

Booth thought about it for a minute and decided to try a different approach. "Zack, when I was kidnapped by Gallagher and being held in the hangar, you helped figure out where I was. Why?"

"It was a puzzle that needed solving."

"And when Kirby suspended me from the FBI and you worked to find evidence to solve the Harper case and get my job back. Why?"

"I was distressed that they had come to a faulty conclusion. Getting your job back was a byproduct of correcting their mistakes."

Well, this wasn't going the way Booth thought it would. He tried again. "Ok, so, for you solving puzzles is the most important thing." Zack nodded. "That's the way your brain is wired. The way mine is wired is to protect people. I can't change that any more than you can change your logic. "

Zack contemplated this new piece of information. He came to the conclusion that he was glad he didn't live with Booth's brain. The one time that he had allowed his brain to work like the agents had been during the explosion. Hodgins had been spared at the expense of his hands. He couldn't imagine having to live like that daily.

For his part, Booth was feeling the knot that had been in his stomach for the last two days loosen. Immediately after the shooting he had been pissed. Pissed that Zack had not taken action to save himself, instead relying on Booth to do the dirty work. Being "the gun" was wearing. Now, after speaking with Zack he had come to the conclusion that no matter how awful he felt, he was still better equipped to handle the fallout than the squint. Killing someone, no matter how justified, really would have destroyed the kid. In the end, it had worked out the way it was supposed to. It still sucked, but the alternative outcomes would have been worse. He sipped his coffee and looked at Zack who was obviously concentrating intensely.

Finally Zack spoke. "Agent Booth. I may have been erroneous in my conclusion. You are my friend."


	21. Jared

Jared Booth left the train station in Bethesda and headed towards Walter Reed Medical Center. It had been two weeks since they had found out Seeley was still alive, and 3 days since he'd arrived stateside. This was his first visit to his brother. Hank hadn't let him skip school to come with him earlier in the week, insisting that his youngest grandson needed to buckle down for his last year at high school. That, and the staff had warned them to not overwhelm Seeley. Keeping that in mind Pops had suggested that Jared take the train in and he would come by later and bring him back after checking in on Seeley himself.

He was scared for his big brother. Pops had said that Seeley would be okay eventually, but it was going to take a while. Physically the Iraqis had messed him up. He'd already had two surgeries on his feet and was likely looking at two more, and there was still a slight chance that he'd walk with a limp. Jared couldn't imagine his brother handling that well. Mentally it was hard to say how long the recovery would be, Seeley wasn't talking too much, he'd give one word answers to questions but it wasn't clear whether his silence was due to drugs, pain or trauma. Thankfully, they had pretty much ruled out brain damage.

He checked in at the front desk and got Seeley's room number. There was no one at the nursing station so he just headed towards his brother's room. Once he found it he stopped in the doorway, shocked for an instant.

Seeley was lying on his left side with his back to the door. His hospital gown was untied, a sheet covered him from the waist down but wasn't tucked in, showing his legs encased in plaster, a pillow between his knees. Fading bruises and cuts in various stages of healing, some of which still had stitches in them, covered his back. His spine and ribs were much more prominent than they should have been. His right arm was in a cast from fingertips to mid bicep. The exposed skin that wasn't bruised or slashed was almost as pale as the bandages on his wounds. His head was shaved revealing more gashes on his scalp.

Taking a deep breath, he walked around the bed and pulled a chair up. Seeley's eyes were closed and more bruises were visible on his face through the stubble. Pillows blocked the view of his chest but from his shallow breathing it was obvious that ribs were broken. An IV was attached to his left hand and the little two fingers were splinted together. He was glad Seeley wasn't awake yet, he needed a chance to get it together. They weren't really close any more, but this was still his big brother and it was horrible to see him like this again. Jared clenched his fists and fought back the memories of other times when he'd seen his brother lying bruised and battered on a bed.

Booth knew, or thought he knew, that someone was in the room with him. He was very confused right now. Every time he managed to wake up someone new was telling him he was in a different place. First in Kuwait, then Frankfurt and now supposedly in Maryland. They kept telling him everything was fine and he was safe, but he had dreamed that a lot between beatings. In an case, it seemed like a long dream now, so maybe he had been rescued, but time was confusing too. For a while it was always dark and now it was always bright. It seemed like maybe a doctor or nurse had just left after saying something about his back, maybe that's who was in the room. He hoped so because they had rolled him on his side and it was harder to breathe this way.

He managed to open his eyes, or at least one eye, the left one didn't work so well. But then again, most of his body parts didn't seem to work too well right now. He knew they were all still attached because they hurt like hell. Focusing wasn't his strong point but it looked like Jared was staring at him. The hallucination lightly touched his wrist and said, "Hey Seeley". It seemed rude to ignore his brother even if he wasn't real so he croaked out, "Hey."

Before Jared could respond another voice said, "Hey Booth, I'm back. Hi, I'm Amy." Jared nodded, "Nice to meet you, I'm Seeley's younger brother Jared." Ok, both of his imaginary friends were talking to each other, so maybe they were real. He'd never been that creative.

"Booth, I'm going to take your stitches out now. Jared, if you want to wait in the lounge, I'll come get you when I'm done."

"Unless I'll be in the way, I'll hang here. " He did not want to leave his brother yet.

"I don't mind if he doesn't mind." She waited for a response, but was not surprised when none was given from the injured soldier. "I imagine that he'd be glad to have this done as quickly as possible. " A hand touched his back. "Ok, Seeley, this shouldn't hurt, but you may feel some pinching. "

Jared slid his chair back and leaned forward so that Seeley didn't have to strain to see him, and found an unmarked part of his arm to hold lightly. His brother's expression was still a little unfocused and he hoped the contact would help. Jared was suddenly taken back 10 years to the months before Pops had taken them in. Their father was getting more and more out of control, and Seeley was most often the target of his anger. After one particularly brutal round they cleaned up the mess and then headed to their room. Seeley was so sore that he didn't bother to change into pajamas just laid on his side, trying not to move. Jared, already scared, became terrified when his older brother's eyes filled with tears. He had knelt next to the bed crying, not sure what to do. Seeley, seeing how scared his little brother was picked that moment to tell a fart joke. They laughed a lot harder than the joke warranted, then exchanged others. Eventually Jared had drug his mattress to the floor next to Seeley's bed and fallen asleep. It was a ritual repeated often that summer.

Booth kept watching his brother. He had a funny feeling that they had done this before, but the damn drugs were making it hard to think. Finally it clicked and he mumbled, "Know any good fart jokes?" Jared made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and replied, "No, but I've got a couple of dirty limericks." He proceeded to rattle off one and Seeley snorted in response.

Amy had to smile at the exchange. That was the longest string of words Seeley had put together since he'd arrived, and Jared had lost his panicked look as soon as his brother spoke. While the jokes weren't necessarily in line with her sense of humor her patient was visibly relaxing as his younger brother kept up a running monologue. As she worked she had noticed faint scars on Seeley's back and was guessing that they had been through some stuff. She finished with the last of the stitches and wiped off his back. "Ok, all done. Let's get your ribs re-taped. Jared, do you mind giving me a hand? Otherwise I have to wait for an orderly."

Following her instructions they managed to get Seeley turned over and then in a sitting position to wrap his chest with a minimum of discomfort. Jared had paled each time Seeley winced, but Seeley kept muttering "I'm ok" which kept the younger Booth calm and focused. Once they got him settled and coaxed some water into him, Seeley closed his eyes, exhausted by all the activity. Amy noticed the concern on Jared's face and motioned him out of the room. Once out of earshot of Seeley she told him, "Thanks. You really helped him a lot. He's going to be out of it for a little while, so go down to the cafeteria and get yourself a soda or something. I'll have some lunch sent in, once you get back see if you can get him to eat and drink. He hasn't been terribly interested in food yet, but if you can convince him to eat, that will help. Anything in particular that he likes? Soft foods are best."

"When we were sick, grandma always made us pudding." Jared offered, " and he likes coffee."

"Well, he'll have to stick to decaf, but pudding is definitely on the menu. " She squeezed the teenager's arm gently and added, "And stop worrying, it's going to take a while, but your brother is going to be fine."

Jared nodded, not entirely convinced. He headed down to the cafeteria and bought his own coffee and then headed back to see Seeley.

When Hank arrived a couple hours later, his grandsons were discussing Jared's latest football game. Granted, most of the talking was done by the younger Booth, but Seeley was at least making some conversation. Another good sign was the empty bowls and cups on the bedside table. He stood in the doorway observing for a bit and was cheered when BOTH of the boys noticed and greeted him with "Hey Pops."


	22. Jeffersonian Kids

Sometime in season 11...

Friday 16:45

His cell phone rang. "Hey Bones, what's up?"

"Booth, there's been a power issue here at the lab. Everyone is ok, but the doors automatically shut and we can't exit without breaking the glass doors. Since it's not an emergency we're going to wait till the power comes back on."

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Yes, we're fine, but, you need to pick up Hank from daycare, and Daisy has asked if you can grab Lance too. If we don't get out of here by 6 she gets charged extra. Also, Christine and Michael Vincent's after school program ends here at 5 and obviously they won't be able to get into the lab. Hank's likely to be cranky tonight since he just a round of vaccines this afternoon."

"No problem Bones, I got this. I have keys to your car so I'll grab the other set of car seats from there and take all 4 kids home until you guys get sprung." He's fine with kid duty but hopes for everyone's sake the lab stuff will be resolved soon. It's been a long week for them all

17:30

Booth opened the front door juggling Hank and 2 bags. Christine and Michael Vincent had Lance duty. His phone rang again.

"Hey Bones. Any word on the power?"

"No news yet."

"Ok, well don't worry. I just walked in, have all 4 kids, we have Max's lasagna from last night, so will feed them dinner. "

Coats were removed. Hank and Lance made a beeline for the trucks and started to play happily. Christine and Michael Vincent pulled out coloring books. Booth started heating the lasagna while the older kids regaled him with tales of their day. Most of which involved one of their friends, Emma, getting ill during the after school program. "She had obviously eaten a peanut butter sandwich and raisins Uncle Booth". Booth tried to stifle a grin. Leave it Hodgins' son to closely examine the vomit of a classmate.

19:00

Dinner was complete. Lance had balked at lasagna, so he'd had to break out some grilled cheese, which then had a domino effect on the rest of the kids, but they were all fed. The older kids and Lance had clean hands and faces and were playing Happy Hideaway. The dishes weren't cleaned up yet because as predicted, Hank was a little out of sorts and requiring some extra attention. The cell rang again.

"Hey Daisy."

"I am SOOOO sorry Agent Booth. But right now it doesn't look like we are going to get out of here before Lance's bed time. He usually goes down at 7:30."

"It's ok Daisy. Christine has a pad and blankets in Hank's room for slumber parties. I'll put them down together. My mom just sent Hank some new pajamas that are too big for him, but will probably fit Lance. It's not a problem. "

"But I didn't pack any of his training pants in his daycare bag. He only wears them at night. Most nights he's fine."

"If he wets the bed, he wets the bed. It's all washable. Let me put you on face time so you can say goodnight to him."

Daisy explained to her son that he was going to have a sleepover and she would come get him soon. Good night kisses were exchanged (Booth would have to clean his screen later).

19:45

The younger kids had brushed their teeth, had a couple of stories read to them and were tucked in. Only 15 minutes late on bedtime, that's close enough thought Booth. The older ones were reading on their own.

The cell rang again.

"Hey Angela."

"Hey Booth" Both Angela and Hodgins replied.

"Let me guess, you guys are still stuck, and Michael Vincent's bed time is 8:30."

"Yep. You still doing okay?"

"We're fine. I'll put him down in Parker's room."

"Thanks. We owe you one. Can we talk to him?"

Booth handed his phone to the little boy, tales of the day were told. Eventually good nights and I love yous were exchanged.

20:00

There went his phone again.

"Hey Bones."

"Booth. Still no luck on the doors. I guess I should say goodnight to Christine."

Booth handed his phone to his daughter.

"Ok mommy. Good night. Love you".

20:15

"Uncle Booth, I can't wear these pajamas they're GIRLS pajamas."

Booth looked at the offending garment. They were red, not a flower or a frill anywhere. Nothing to indicate girls pajamas other than they had come from Christine's dresser. Parenting 101 thought Booth, pick your battles. "Ok, go brush your teeth. Christine will show you where's there a new toothbrush. When you are done, come out to the living room, we'll read and then I'll get you a t-shirt to sleep in."

"Not a girls shirt though?"

"Right, not a girls shirt."

20:30

After the reading, he grabbed one of his FBI t-shirts, handed it to Michael Vincent and led him to Parker's room.

"Here. Get changed, crawl into bed. I'll come tuck you in after I get done with Christine."

He headed to Christine's room. Reminded her there were no such things as monsters, told all of her stuffed animals good night, then kissed her on the forehead.

"Goodnight princess. Sleep tight, love you."

"Love you too daddy."

He went to Parker's room. He tried not to laugh at the sight of Michael Vincent in his shirt.

"Ok Michael, into bed with you. " He gave the little boy a hug, and pulled the covers to his chin, on his way out he turned on the night light. "Good night. Do you want me to leave the door cracked and the hall light on?"

"Yes please Uncle Booth"

21:00

Kitchen was cleaned. Beer and ESPN time.

"Mama!" came the cry from Hank's room. Lance was upset.

"Shhhh, it's ok buddy. She'll be back soon."

"Want MOMMY"

"I know bud, and she wants to be here. But she can't right now. You'll see her in the morning."

"Wubba!"

Booth racked his brain. Finally remembering that wubba was Lance's stuffed bunny. Oh crap he thought, that wasn't in the bag from day care.

"Wubba's at your place, Lance." He grabs the first stuffed animal in reach. It's the Philly Phanatic, "but here's a little guy that could use a friend. Do you think you could help him out?"

"No!"

"Let's give it a try okay. And let's be quiet so we don't wake Hank." He gathered the toddler in his arms and headed to the rocking chair in the corner. He whispers a story introducing the phanatic to Lance, rocking him and rubbing his back the whole time.

22:00

Lance was asleep again, he had been for a while, but stirred every time Booth went to move him. Finally it felt safe to tuck him back into bed. He headed down the hall towards the living room and his now warm beer.

"Uncle Booth?" came the tentative voice from Parker's room.

"Yea Michael?"

"I don't feel so good."

"Ok, bud, what's wrong?"

He approached the bed just in time for Michael Vincent to sit up and vomit. All over himself and the bed.

"I'm sorry!"

"Not your fault. Come here, let's get you cleaned up." Without thinking Booth held out his arms. Michael Vincent hugged his uncle tight, not caring that he now covered them both in puke.

Booth carried the boy down the hallway to the bathroom. Stripped the kid down to his underwear, luckily those were mostly dry and washed him.

"Feeling better?"

"I think so."

"Ok, hang out here. You can brush your teeth again. Let me go get you a dry shirt and I'll clean the bed ok?"

He quickly changed the sheets on Parker's bed. Heading to the master he grabbed another shirt and waited for Michael to put it on. Leading him back to bed, the boy was tucked in, but still looked uncomfortable. Booth tiptoed into Christine's room and returned with a stuffed elephant. Michael settled in with his new friend. Leaving a trash can next to the bed in case of emergency, Booth turned out the lights.

22:30

All was quiet. Booth changed HIS clothes, started a vomit load of laundry, sat on the couch and winced at the taste of warm beer. His phone rang.

"Hey Bones."

"They're now saying it will be another 4 hours minimum. We're grabbing couch space. How are things there?"

He relayed the events. He could here Bones telling Angela.

Angela came on the phone. "Is he okay? Was he running a fever?"

"He's fine Ange. It's just a kid thing. He's asleep again. I'll check in on him. Don't worry."

23:00

The washer dinged. Booth roused himself and threw the stuff in the dryer.

23:02

"Daddy!"

He rushed down to Christine's room.

"What's up sweetheart?"

She held out her arms, clearly upset. He sat on the bed and gave her a hug as she whispered "I don't feel so good." And threw up. In his lap. She started to cry.

He sighed. Obviously Emma had shared. "It's okay sweetie. Let's get you cleaned up ok?"

He led her to the bathroom, cleaned her up, found a fresh pair of jammies. "Hold on here while I get your bed ready ok?"

He changed his clothes again, found fresh sheets and quickly changed the bed.

"You feeling better pumpkin?"

"Not really. Will you stay with me a while daddy?"

He gathered her in his arms, and rocked her gently and talked to her softly. When she sighed he looked down and saw that she was asleep. He tucked her in, and left a trash can next to the bed.

23:15

He threw another load into the wash. And then realized that while he put the clothes in the dryer, he didn't start it. Oh well.

23:45

A howl came from the nursery. Hank was awake and unhappy and stinky. Trying not to wake Lance he changed Hank including the pajamas, and rocked him to calm him down.

00:15 Saturday

Hank was finally asleep. Booth went to put him back to bed and realized that another set of sheets needed to be changed. He put Hank down on the pad with Lance, and headed down to the linen closet.

As he was changing Hank's bed a small voice came through the darkness, "Uncle Boof?"

"Yes Lance?"

"I wet"

"It's okay buddy." Of course there would be a potty training failure now.

Booth realized that both boys were now wet. He went to Lance's day care bag and found a spare pair of underwear, took the boy in, cleaned him up, and grabbed another FBI t-shirt. It was pretty much a sleeping bag on the boy but he didn't think any of Hanks other stuff would fit him and he wasn't going to risk waking anyone else up. He finished changing Hank's bed, put Lance on it. Grabbed Hank and changed his pajamas again, but the boy woke up and started fussing. He handed the baby his stuffed dog. That didn't seem to satisfy, so he picked him up and started bouncing to try and stave off a sleepy meltdown as he went to the linen closet again and found they had no more twin sheets. Three extra sets had always been plenty before. The ones in the dryer were still damp. He sighed.

00:45 Hank had finally succumbed to the walking. He headed to the master bedroom, laid his son down and crawled into bed next to him. He was still a little wired so he turned on SportsCenter and closed captioning.

01:45

He woke up enough to turn off the TV and fall back to sleep.

02:15

He heard the sounds of small feet. He roused, and found Michael Vincent standing in the hallway, stuffed elephant in hand.

"You feeling sick again buddy?"

"No, I just woke up for some reason." He looked scared.

"Bad dream?"

The boy nodded.

"Ok, come on, you can sleep with me and Hank." He tucked the boy in on Bones side of the bed.

02:45

He was dreaming about the dentist. There was pain in his jaw. He woke with a start, and removed Hank's foot from his face. He re-oriented his son and tried to go back to sleep.

03:15

There was tapping on his shoulder. "Daddy" came the whisper. He half opened his eyes to his daughter holding her bunny and staring at him.

"What's wrong pumpkin?"

"The wind is making a funny noise outside my window. Can I sleep here?"

He glanced over. Hank was now sleeping sideways, taking up most of the middle of the bed.

He stood up and grabbed his son. Whispered to Christine to crawl in and re-positioned Hank next to his sister. Oh joy, Michael Vincent talks in his sleep.

04:00

He had just drifted off, Michael's conversation having finished about 15 minutes ago. Another weird dream starts. This one involves a wet sandbag on his chest. He wakes again. His son is sprawled over him, and has had a diaper failure. Great. Head down to Hanks room via the laundry. Crap, when he checked the sheets earlier he didn't restart the dryer. Ok, STILL no clean sheets, but there is a clean t-shirt for him. He sighs and heads to the baby's room. He strips Hank again, re-diapers him with a minimum amount of fuss. Another set of pajamas. Lance is now sleeping sideways at the head of the crib, leaving room for Hank. He lays his son down in the empty space and covers both boys with a blanket. As he's heading back to the bedroom he hears the iPad ping.

4:10 The ping was Parker. Given Booth's irregular sleep schedule in the best of times, his oldest has gotten in the habit of just checking in first thing in the morning UK just in case his dad is awake. They chat for a bit before Parker heads off to soccer practice. Booth gives him a rundown on the night so far much to the teenager's amusement. After hanging up, Booth realizes he's hungry. Well, it IS almost breakfast time

04:25 Bowl of cereal consumed, he's halfway through a glass of orange juice when...  
Wailing from the nursery. He rushes in setting his orange juice on the dresser at the end of the crib and determines that one of the toddlers kicked the other in their sleep. No lasting damage but both boys are awake and unhappy. They are both standing in the crib crying. He awkwardly lifts one in each arm, hoping to not hurt his back in the process, grabs the blanket and the three of them, the Phanatic and Hank's stuffed dog settle into the rocking chair.

05:00

He wakes to a sore back, cold feet and wet spots on his t-shirt. This time it's drool. Carefully he stands, trying not to wake either sleeping child. He lays them down and attempts to straighten up. Turning away he catches his toe on the corner of the dresser. As he grabs for balance, the orange juice spills, all over the crib. And Hank. Who lets his displeasure at the cold wake up be known. Sigh. One more cleanup. Pajama drawer is now empty, evidently 4 backups is not enough. And there are still no clean sheets. Ok, back to the master. T-shirt for Hank. He arranges Christine and Michael (why don't kids sleep vertically in a bed?) to make room for Hank and lays him on the bed. Lance cries. Back to the nursery. His godson has rolled into the orange juice. Remove the childs wet T-shirt. Back to the master. New T-shirt for Lance, but the toddler is now awake again, strange bed, no wubba and no mommy are taking their toll.

05:30 After walking around with Lance, he is finally asleep. Into bed with the others. He looks longingly at the bed and heads out to the couch. Once settled, he realizes that his shirt still has drool or is it orange juice on it? In any case, it's wet. He's too tired to try and find a new one, so just strips off the offending garment, grabs one of the kids blankets that was hanging on the arm of the couch and settles in.

06:05 He hears the keys in the front door. He sits up and blinks blearily at the arrivals. They all look a little worse for the wear as they stagger into the house. Angela and Daisy plop down on the couch next to him and Angela promptly steals his blanket. He can hear Bones doing something in the kitchen. Daisy is muttering something about tequila and glaring at Hodgins. Hodgins is muttering something about it's not his fault. Angela is shooting daggers at both of them.

06:15 Bones distributes coffee filled mugs to the quartet in the living room and then walks out. Still no one is speaking much, but after a couple of sips of coffee he becomes aware that Daisy and Angela are looking at him oddly. He's having trouble figuring it out when Bones walks in with her own cup and a hoodie sweatshirt which she tosses at him. Oh.

06:30 A noise comes from the master suite, Hodgins rolls over to check it out and makes a choking sound. The ladies rouse themselves to investigate. One by one they glance in, then cover their mouths to suppress laughter. It looks like a game of drunken Twister has occurred on the bed with kids and stuffed animal arms and legs in every direction. Finally everyone returns to the living room. Hodgins raises his mug towards Booth, "Looks like we missed a hell of a party dude."


	23. Hannah

Booth walked into the Royal Diner and took a seat facing the door. The burden of the last few months was finally off is shoulders. Kovac was dead and his sister was in maximum security. The FBI, Danny at the CIA and a long list of Army intelligence officers had confirmed that there were no other relatives of the general unaccounted for. Mark and Jeanine were the only two children and since Raddick had killed both of his brothers and their wives it was unlikely that any nieces and nephews would be out for revenge. It was over at last. Bones was recovering nicely, he still had a few sore spots left over from the blast, but was definitely on the mend. Stark had threatened him with bodily harm if he appeared in the Hoover before next week and for once Booth wasn't fighting the mandatory paid vacation. Yea, when Aubrey showed up they MIGHT discuss some cases, but technically he was just having late breakfast with a friend. These musings had distracted him enough that he was mildly startled when Joan came by to pour him a cup. He definitely didn't notice the blond at the far end of the counter behind him.

So, he was caught unaware when the blond got up and came to stand next to his table, holding her cup of coffee.

"Seeley?"

His head jerked up at the voice he had once known so well but hadn't heard in a long time.

"Hannah?" He looked at his former lover and was startled to realize two things. One, it had been years since he'd thought of her, and two, there was no gut punch. He wouldn't exactly say that he was glad to see her, but he wasn't sorry either.

"Can I sit or do you still hate me?"

He motioned to the chair. "Yea, have a seat. Never did hate you." He looked at her raised eyebrows, and clarified, "I was extremely pissed at you, but it never crossed to hate. And I've been done being angry for a while."

She offered a half smile at that. "Glad we got that straightened out. How are you? I heard about the explosion. Everybody's okay right - Temperance, Angela, Cam? "

"We're all fine. Some minor injuries but it could have been a lot worse. "

"Good. I hadn't seen their names in any casualty reports, but it's always nice to have confirmation. I did think of them as friends when...well, back in the day. " She paused as Joan refilled her cup, a little unsure of whether it was a good idea to journey down memory lane. "So, you're good? Kids are doing well? You've got three now right? "

"Yea, Parker's in London, but coming back for the summer, can't believe he's 16 now. Christine is 6, Hank is heading towards 2. how did you know?"

"Well, I am a reporter, and your wife is a best selling author. It's pretty easy to keep tabs on you in a non-stalkery way."

He smiled at that and nodded, "I guess it wouldn't take too much work. But yea, I'm good. Happy. " He sipped his coffee, "How about you? You back in DC or just visiting?"

"Just visiting. First trip back since, well, almost 6 years. Am kind of done with the war zone, it's gotten frustrating at how long it's gone on and how little things have changed. Will be heading to New York and working out of there for a while."

"The nomad is settling down?"

She shuddered, "God no. Just leaning more towards writing and print instead of in front of the camera. According to the brass I'm getting too old. "

He looked at her quizzically. She was still stunning, not in a Bones way, but the years had been kind to her.

Catching his raised eyebrows, she shrugged. "Unfortunately that's the way of things. It's still a little tough for women. 40 is ancient in this business and I'm pushing it."

"That sucks. So, working out of New York but still living out of a suitcase? "

She nodded. "I've been with a guy for a couple of years. We have an apartment there. If we happen to both be in town at the same time, great, if not, that's okay too." She caught his expression. "What can I say it works for us. "

He held up his hands in mock surrender, "Not judging. As long as you're happy." But he was thinking to himself, damn that sounds awful.

Hannah studied him. He seemed sincere about his wish for her happiness but if she were a betting woman she'd put money down on his relief that he didn't live that way. She sipped her coffee and then replied, "Yea, I am. It took me a while to figure out that what I was supposed to want out of life wasn't for me, and that it's ok. "

"What you're supposed to want?"

"You know. Fabulous career, handsome husband, white picket fence, 1.8 children, dog, mini van, the works. Turns out for me, the job is what interests me and the rest not so much. " She studied her mug for a minute and then looked him in the eyes. "I'm just really sorry that I didn't figure that out before I hurt you. When I came to DC I thought I wanted it all, and if anyone could have convinced me to go that route it would have been you. It wasn't until you offered that I realized that I wasn't cut out for that - no one gets it all and trying to just requires more compromises than I want to make."

He touched her hand laying on the table. "Hey. Don't worry about it. " He fidgeted with his cup a bit and then snorted. "This is probably going to come out wrong, but you saying no turns out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. "

She laughed. "I get it. We've both ended up with the life we wanted. So it's kinda hard to be mad at how we got here. " She raised her mug in salute. "To wishes that didn't come true and unanswered prayers."

They clinked cups and drank. They exchanged updates for a bit, she had met her new guy at work convention - not nearly as memorable as being arrested by him she said with a laugh. Ken was a freelance photographer who lived out of his suitcase as well. The apartment in New York was a studio with a wi-fi connection. That pretty much summed up their household needs. He showed her a couple of pictures of the kids but could see that while she was happy for him it was clear she had no regrets.

After a bit she glanced at her watch, "Hey, I gotta run. I gotta ask though, any truth to the rumor that the Jeffersonian was targeted as a result of past actions of the US government?"

He shook his head, amused, "No comment. "

"I figured as much. At least now I can legitimately tell my editor that I gave it a shot. Maybe he'll stop being annoyed that I refused to ask you for an exclusive when you brought down Durant. "

"You knew about...all that?"

"Reporter? Yes, I still have contacts in the DC area. And I was really angry about what they did to you - I had just gotten back into the country when you nailed him. I wanted to contact you, but I wasn't sure you'd want to hear from me and I figured you probably had enough on your plate. I also guessed that you wouldn't be talking to anybody about it, so there was no point in trying. But, " she added wagging a finger at him " if you do ever decide to do a tell all, I want first crack ok?"

"I'm pretty sure you'll have a snowball fight in Afghanistan before that happens, but point taken."

She rose and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Good to see you Seeley. Take care. "

"You too Hannah. "

As she walked out the door she passed Aubrey who had noticed her conversation with his friend. He took her seat, pushed her empty mug aside and asked, " Was that who I thought it was? " Aubrey occasionally caught the evening news and she looked familiar.

"Nah." Booth sipped his coffee, "She's just someone I used to know."


	24. Bones

A/N: So if you're reading Bonding through Secrets, this is kind of the hours after "Hard Case" (Chapter 11). Got this stuck in my head, but I couldn't make it fit in that story. If you're not reading Bonding through Secrets, this takes place about 8 months after the series finale.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brennan woke and looked at the clock, 7:30. Without looking, she knew that the space behind her was empty. She sighed, she'd been hoping now that the case was over he could sleep again, it had been elusive for him since they had taken the call 8 days ago. When she did roll over, the concern grew when she realize that not only was she alone, his side had not been slept in. Booth had gone back to the Hoover after dinner to catch up on other work that had been neglected during the last week or so. She had dozed fitfully until he'd returned home shortly after midnight. He had kissed her and said he'd been in soon. The reassurance had been enough to allow her to give into her exhaustion and sleep through the night.

She put on her robe and headed to the kitchen. Subconsciously taking notes - his car keys were in the dish on the dresser, his running shoes in the corner, his jacket on the hook. So, he had to be home somewhere. Probably the man cave. She could at least hope that he was sleeping in the recliner. She hit the button to start the coffee brewing and listened for sound of life in the house. There was still probably a half hour before the kids woke up, but the aroma would call him to the kitchen.

As the coffee was brewing she pondered her next move. She was worried about him. The case had been as Angela called it "the trinity from hell" for Booth - a child, 2 combat veterans, all the victims of addiction fueled betrayal. With each revelation of the evidence she had watched him retreat further into the dark place that sometimes overwhelmed him, forced to watch as he battled the demons. That was the hardest thing, knowing that there was nothing she could do but to wait and be there for him when he finally claimed victory. She KNEW he would, he just needed time, but she could also see the panic and doubt beginning to form in those brown eyes as he did everything he could and it wasn't enough, not yet.

Irrationally she fumed at his god and the universe. They had finally gotten back into a good space after months of chaos. The lab had been fully up and running for the last six weeks and they were starting to slip into a routine that was working for them all. Cam and Arastoo and their three boys were happy - Cam, wanting to cut back on her workload had left the administration of the lab to Hodgins. Dr. Wells, seeing a void and declaring himself bored with anthropology was now studying entomology and geology and working as Hodgins assistant. He still had a tendency to irritate those around him, but Angela, as a condition of him being hired was requiring "anti douche" lessons. Angela was working part time while training an assistant - baby William Zachary had been born in perfect health in September and she was enjoying spending time with him and pursuing her photography. There had been enough donations to rebuild the Jeffersonian that there was budget for another forensic anthropologist. So Brennan and Arastoo were finding a balance that would allow them both to enjoy work and family life. While she was recovering neurologically, Booth had been grooming Aubrey and Agent Shaw and a couple of other FBI agents to handle more of the field work. While he still wasn't doing his job as the head of Major Crimes exactly as his superiors had defined it, they were happy with the success of the department and Booth had discovered that he really enjoyed teaching. And then the case had disrupted their carefully constructed equilibrium.

Her mental inventory was interrupted by the coffee maker gurgling the completion of it's task. She was surprised that Booth still hadn't made it into the kitchen, maybe he was out? Or really sleeping? She poured a cup and added honey. If he was around and wanted it, the sweetener would appeal, if he wasn't she would drink it. She started her search. He wasn't in the man cave. He hadn't crashed in Parker's room or the guest room. She headed to Christine's room where the kids were having a slumber party, and stopped in the doorway.

Hank in the trundle was starting to wake up, she could see the signs. Christine was awake and reading. The beanbag chair in the corner held Booth, snoring softly. Brennan watched with a measure of relief and exasperation. He was safe, but she wondered how long he had been there and how much his back would make him pay. Christine held her finger to her lips, "Shhh. Daddy is sleeping." Brennan nodded, taking in the scene. The whisper woke Hank up and he looked around the room drowsily. He looked at his mom and sister and caught the signal. He smiled as he looked where they had pointed and saw his Daddy and then carefully crawled out of bed and headed towards his momma. Brennan placed the coffee mug on the bookcase and gathered him up for a hug and kiss and a soft, "did you have a good sleep?" He nodded into her shoulder. Booth stopped snoring and started to stir, Brennan motioned for Christine to come to the doorway. In the hallway Brennan said to her daughter, "Christine, can you take Hank to the bathroom, and then you two can go watch cartoons. I need to talk to Daddy for a minute, then we'll have breakfast okay?" The kids trotted off down the hallway.

By now Booth was blinking sleepily and gingerly moving, testing how much his body was going to punish him this morning. He had put it through a lot since the case had opened, working out furiously in the hopes that he could physically wear down the ghosts. "Hey, " he said softly and gave her a tentative smile, and in that instant she knew that he had won the battle. The war might night be over yet, but somewhere in the night he had found his faith again and he would now allow her to fight by his side.

"Hey yourself," she grabbed the coffee mug and crossed the room to him, reaching down, "let me help you." He grabbed her hand and she pulled him to a sitting position, handed him the mug and then straddled the chair behind him and gently started kneading the tension out of his neck and shoulders. He submitted to her ministrations, while sipping, occasionally letting out a moan as she worked a kink out of really tender spot. By the time she made it to his lower back, the coffee was gone and he was feeling he could at least function. She kissed his temple as he murmured, "Thank you."

She felt him tense as if to start to stand and quickly wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him back to her. She whispered in his ear, "Stay." He nodded, put the mug aside and then leaned back into her, unclasping her hands to intertwine his fingers with hers. They sat in silence, each feeling the reassuring heartbeat of the other. Finally he angled his head back to look at her and she dropped a kiss on his forehead, "How long did you sleep?"

He looked at his watch "Only about four hours, " he admitted, "but they were solid."

"Well, that's about an hour more than you have been getting, so that's good. But, why here?"

He leaned back some more, his head now resting on her thigh, causing her to move throw her other leg almost over his shoulder. "Parker called about 3:30. He reminded me that after a tough case I used to watch him sleep. I came in here, to see if it would help. It did. But I got tired of standing and well, " he shrugged.

She smiled, and brushed her fingers over the bags under his eyes. He caught her hand and kissed her palm, "Look, I'm sor". The rest of the sentence was cut off by her hand over his mouth. "If you are going to apologize for having a tough time, I don't want to hear it."

"But," he protested, "I've been gone a lot, and when I've been here I've been a distracted, moody ass. I've left you to take up the slack the last week. I should have done better."

"Booth, you were gone because you were working a case and doing everything you're supposed to do when the PTSD flares up - exercising, attending meetings, going to church, abstaining from alcohol. And yes, you may have been a little distracted, but you've been here every night for dinner and bedtime with the kids. They haven't suffered. And I may have been doing more than usual around the house, but that's what partners do. And I don't resent that any more than you resented doing more than your fair share all summer while I was recovering from the blast. " She narrowed her gaze at him, "Or did I get that wrong and you DID resent taking care of me?"

"What? Of course not Bones!" He was indignant at the suggestion.

"Then why should this be any different?"

"Because damn it! " He glared at her, "It's been 2 years since I last gambled, 3 since I got out of prison, 6 since I was last in a war zone. You and the kids still shouldn't be dealing with my crap." He couldn't look at her any more, turning his head.

She touched his cheek and forced him to look at her, "You know that's not how it works."

He sighed, "I know." Catching her glare he did his best imitation of her, "PTSD is no different than your broken feet, or your damaged inner transcontinental ligament."

"Inter-transverse." She corrected automatically, "and if you know I'm right, why do you beat yourself up?"

"I just remember dealing with my parents." He held up his hand, stopping her interruption, "I know, I know. I'm not my father, I'd never hurt the kids, but I still think of them twenty years from now sitting in some therapists office talking about how they had to walk on egg shells around their daddy because he had issues. It's just got to be frustrating for you."

"Yes." She admitted, "it's frustrating. But not because you have 'issues' as you put it, it's frustrating, because you're hurting and we can't fix it. And I see you fighting so hard and I can't make it any easier. THATs what makes it so difficult. "

"Stop!" He ordered sharply, and reached up to brush back her tears. "You do help. Just by being there. "

"But I don't DO anything!"

"It may not feel like it Bones, but its everything to me. "

She sniffed, "Well, if I'm supposed to accept that, why can't you accept what I've told you?"

He smiled. "Okay, I give up. You win. "

Glad he was at least temporarily going to let it go she teased, "It's about time you recognized my intellectual superiority Booth."

"Hey if you're going to brag, you can at least kiss me first."

She bent down and complied with his request. They sat for a moment, he wasn't quite at peace yet, and he was still tired but he recognized that he was on the way back up from rock bottom and he would soon climb out of his hole. He sent a brief thanks up that he had been blessed with family that was so understanding and accepting. He knew that he should get up and get moving, it had been at least a half an hour and the kids would want breakfast soon. No sooner had he processed the thought when they appeared in the room. Booth opened his arms signalling a need for a hug. Hank launched himself into his daddy's arms while Christine approached in a more controlled, but just as enthusiastic manner. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, and there was some maneuvering as they all tried to make themselves comfortable in a bean bag chair that was most definitely not designed for four. After some giggling due to "accidental" tickling, Christine looked at her Daddy and asked, "Can we have French toast for breakfast?"

"Hungry!" Hank chimed in.

"Coming right up. And then what do you want to do with the day?" It was a rare Saturday when no one had anything on the schedule. Having been somewhat absentee for the past week, Booth was willing to do whatever the kids wanted, but he was hoping it wouldn't be too strenuous. He could use the break.

Christine pondered it for a minute. And then said in a voice that sounded remarkably like her mother's, "Well, it's raining out, so I don't think the park or the carousel is a very good idea. We could go the museum, but it will be crowded. We just went to the library last Thursday so we don't need any new books yet. We went to the mall with Aunt Angela last weekend." Booth hid a smile as we watched the wrinkle form between her eyebrows, just like her mom when she was thinking hard. Finally she brightened, "I think we need a pajama day!"

A day where no one got dressed and left the house. Where they played games, watched movies, colored, read, ate and napped as needed. Perfect. He looked at his wife for confirmation, "I think that's an excellent idea sweetheart. Now let's go make some breakfast."


	25. Avalon

A/N: Season 7 hiatus

Booth was into the fifth mile of his run that was doing nothing to calm his panic. It had been a month since Bones had taken off with Christine. A month. He was beginning to lose his mind. The first week he'd been numb. The second he'd rallied and he and the squint squad had been focused on the evidence, trying to decode the clues to clear Bones' name. They'd been so sure that they'd find a solution quickly and bring them home. But the second week had given way to the third and then the fourth and they'd had no significant breakthroughs. Scratch that, no breakthroughs, significant or otherwise.

And it wasn't looking good in the near future. Cam could no longer put off the Jeffersonian board or the FBI. The squints were slowly being pulled in other directions, working other cases. Clearing Bones' name had been pushed to the back burner at the lab. In the Hoover he spent his days doing whatever shit task Flynn assigned even though he desperately wanted to tell him where he could shove the reports. Every time he came close to losing his cool he could hear Bones telling him that she and Christine needed him to stay strong and keep his job at the FBI - they needed his help to come home. But he couldn't see a way to get there. When he allowed himself to look into the future it took more work to paint a rosy picture. It was an effort to imagine Christine learning to crawl in the living room, her first Halloween costume, gurgling in delight at a Christmas tree in the corner.

If the days were hard the nights were harder. So far he managed by working late, exercising to the point of exhaustion, and then collapsing in Parker's room, after grabbing takeout from Sid or wolfing down a sandwich. He couldn't face their bed alone. He only went into the master suite to soak in the tub, the physical relief barely compensating for the mental pain he felt each time he walked into their bedroom. The weekends were the worst, with no real caseload he didn't have a need to go into the office. When he did, the pitying looks from his colleagues were almost too much to bear. If Flynn was in then it was intolerable. He'd busied himself with Christine's treehouse and the list of things that hadn't quite gotten done at the house before they'd moved in but both were now complete. Tomorrow was Father's Day, and Booth's current plan was to spend the rest of the day watching sports and drinking himself into a stupor in the hopes that if he was busy battling a hangover he could distract himself from the fact that neither of his children would be with him.

He knew he should think of a better plan, this was Pops first Father's Day that his son was gone, not that Edwin had been around any in the last thirty years. But still, knowing that you'd survived both your children had to make a day set aside for fatherhood bitter. Booth felt guilty that he couldn't, or wouldn't be there for Pops, but he was pretty sure that the only thing more pathetic than one sad father would be two. Rebecca had offered to send Parker over, but he felt it was safer for his son to be on a separate continent until after Pelant was nailed. He kept telling himself that Christine was fine, Max and Bones were keeping her safe. He should be more optimistic, but really he was just damned tired of pretending. Pretending that he was okay, that he didn't want to scream until his voice gave out, or throw his chair through the glass of his, no make that Flynn's office, or pummel Pelant into oblivion - he'd decided weeks ago that a bullet between the eyes while satisfying was too quick for the bastard. So he had decided to just stop for the weekend, he was going to wallow in self pity and go back to pretending on Monday.

He wasn't sure why he had gotten up and driven to the park to run. The park next to Bones' old place, where she'd run often and he would "accidentally" run into her occasionally. He guessed if he was planning on numbing the pain, he had to torture himself first, a sort of pre-penance for his sins. He sighed, adding to his list of his sins was that he hadn't been to mass since Christine's baptism. He had thought about it, even made it to the parking lot once, but every time he thought about walking into the church, he flashed to the last time he'd walked out of it. And then he'd get pissed at God all over again.

The anger fueled his pace, he picked it up ignoring the twinge in his ankle. He kept up till his lungs were burning and he couldn't push one more step. He started his cool down, heading back to the car via the coffee stand. After making his purchase he was adding sugar when he heard a voice calling, "Agent Booth!" He winced, recognizing the voice, Avalon Harmonia. It was official. The universe hated him. He turned toward her hoping that he would get off with a wave and a quick good bye.

The hope was quickly dashed as she headed over and grasped his hand in both of hers, "I KNEW I'd find you here."

Considering he hadn't expected to be here he doubted it, but knew better than to comment, lest he get a lecture on planetary signs and whose house was in retrograde. Not that she needed him to respond, as she started tugging him towards the table she'd been sitting at an motioning for him to take a seat. Belatedly Booth wondered why he was allowing her to drag him over for a conversation he didn't want to have. The truth was, he realized, that there was something oddly calming about her touch. He thought about protesting but decided it wouldn't do any good, besides, it wasn't as though his plans were urgent. He still had to stop and buy the beer, and it would be a couple of hours before there was anything but soccer on. Avalon still hadn't let go of his hand, "I'm sorry to bother you like this Agent Booth, but the Ruths have been insisting that I talk to you, they are afraid you're losing hope. " Avalon said apologetically.

"The Ruths?" He was puzzled.

"Yes, it's a little fuzzy because they are very faint, like they've been gone a while. But they are fiercely protective of you and Temperance. One connected with each of you, " she said it matter of factually, like it made perfect sense.

He was still confused, the only Ruth he had ever known was, no she had to be kidding, "You mean my Aunt Ruth? "

"I don't know many details. I just know there was something about baseball and you were a young boy when she left. About your son's age. The other Ruth is Dr. Brennan's mother I think."

Now he was angry, how dare she? Like he didn't have enough to deal with without some phony psychic trying to manipulate him? Before he could speak, she laid her hands on the fist that he had made, "I know you don't believe in my gift, but, you also know I've been right before." It was said gently but firmly. Again, the calmness swept over him.

Still not ready to let go of his cynicism, he pulled his hand back and half snarled, "Look Ms. Harmonia, I don't know what game you are trying to play here, but I am REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD." The last words were enunciated clearly and distinctly through a mostly clenched jaw.

She looked at him sadly, feeling his pain, "It's not a game, Agent Booth. I wouldn't do that. And I don't have all the answers you're looking for, but I have some."

He looked at her, wanting to believe, knowing he shouldn't. Heart vs. brain. Well, the brain wasn't here to argue so what the hell? Finally he nodded and sighed, "Okay, what have you got?"

"I can't give you an exact day when they return, but, you won't miss her first steps, her first Christmas. It was just a nightmare."

Booth was shocked. He'd woken up in a cold sweat, dreaming that he'd been approached by a strange teenage girl with Bones' blue eyes calling him Daddy. He wondered how she knew, but he could hear Bones' voice, "given the situation, it's fairly obvious to deduce what your biggest fear would be Booth". He sipped his coffee, "I wish I could believe that."

"Are you doubting me Agent Booth?" If he hadn't been so annoyed at the world he might have smiled at the indignation on her face.

"Look, Ms. Harmonia,"

"Avalon", she interrupted.

"Avalon, " he continued, "I don't want to insult you. It's just that as much as I want to believe what you just told me, so far, I've got no concrete reason to think I'm ever going to see them again." He turned his head away, ashamed to hear the break in his voice.

She waited patiently until he looked back, "You need evidence?"

"Yeah."

"How did I know you'd be here?"

He shrugged, "Coincidence. I know you don't live too far away, for all I know you called Angela this morning and she did one of her tracking thingies."

"Agent Booth, I haven't talked to Angela in a couple of weeks. And I moved a few months after you found my sister. It took me 20 minutes to drive here. " She handed him her phone, "Look at my call log for today." It was blank. As she watched him process that info she added, "Even if you could explain my presence here, this isn't where you normally run on Saturdays is it?" He didn't respond so she added forcefully, "IS IT?"

He shook his head.

"So why ARE you here?" He shrugged, he didn't really know why he'd gotten in the car this morning instead of doing his normal run around the neighborhood. He was spared answering by Avalon pulling out her Tarot deck, "Pick a card."

"Avalon, " he started to protest.

"The cards don't lie, " she wagged a finger at him, "unlike you. "

"What?"

"I believe you've been lying a lot lately, Agent Booth, in regards to your weekend plans."

He'd had invites from Cam, Angela and Hodgins, Sweets and Caroline for various activities tomorrow and he'd declined them all. To avoid their looks of pity and concern by telling them he was going to spend the day with Pops. He'd told Pops he had case work, he still hadn't given Pops the full story on his fall from grace at the Hoover, not wanting to worry his grandfather any more than necessary. How did she know? Reluctantly he pulled a card and handed it to her.

She smiled, "I told you. The Chariot."

Like he knew what that meant. Seeing his confusion she explained, "It represents overcoming obstacles. "

"Great," he said bitterly, and took a gulp of coffee, "don't 'spose the cards will tell me how to do that."

She laid her hand on his forearm, "Well, yes they do. Through determination, focus and willpower of course. And might I add, a little faith wouldn't hurt. " She patted his arm, "Go see your grandfather this weekend, he'll help you. You'll help each other."

He looked at her, feeling her calm confidence that this would all work out. He nodded.

She smiled at him, "Good. My work here is done." She rose and placed a hand on his shoulder as she walked past him, "And Agent Booth?" she waited till he turned to her, "Eventually, I'm going to sing at your and Dr. Brennan's wedding."

He shook his head at her, but he had a small smile. Then he pulled out his phone and called Pops, letting him know about the change in plans.


	26. Meeting Cam

July 1992

Seeley Booth sat in the corner of the club, nursing a beer and counting the minutes until he could make his excuses and get the hell out. The first part of the evening hadn't been bad - cheese steaks and BS with Dave, Matt and Pete. He'd been ready to split after dinner but then Matt had suggested a drink and the others had readily agreed and he'd been outvoted. Then, they "just happened" to run into Matt's girlfriend Peg and some of her sorority sisters. Dave and Pete had quickly paired off with two of the girls and were out on the floor dancing, leaving Booth with Peg's friend Cam and a dilemma. Normally asking an attractive woman to dance would not have been big deal, but his newly rehabilitated feet were reminding him that his life wasn't quite normal yet. But the volume in the club was too loud for easy conversation. So far she seemed content to just listen to the better than average cover band but it was kind of awkward to be sitting in silence with a near stranger.

He leaned over to at least make some attempt at conversation, but she just shrugged and indicated that she couldn't hear. She took a long swig of her beer and then looked at him. She said something which he couldn't hear. The song ended and as he was about to speak but she was too fast, "Look, I don't want to be rude, or for you to take this personally. I'm sure you're a nice guy and all, but, I've had a totally crap week that's been on the heels of many other crap weeks. I only came out tonight because it was easier to go along with Peg than to fight her-I figure I have about another hour before I can beg out of here and return to my previously planned evening of finishing homework, then a drink and a trashy romance novel. I don't want to dance, and if you are looking to score tonight you should direct your energies elsewhere, because it ain't happening here. Okay?" She gave him a look that dared him to argue with her and took a long drink of her beer.

He stared at her, processing her rant and then to her annoyment he burst out laughing. She took another drink and leaned in again, "I wasn't joking."

He tried to look serious and failed. "I know." At her glare he confessed, "I was working on a slightly less blunt version of that speech." She raised her eyebrows, "Of course I was going with beer and a ball game. And I wouldn't have mentioned your odds of getting laid." He sipped his beer and said primly, "I am a gentleman."

She stared at him in disbelief and then had to chuckle in spite her mood. He smiled at her, "Okay, since neither of us wants to be here, what do you say we make our excuses to the gang and go hang out at the diner around the corner until we can safely return to our respective places without a lecture on how we should have spent our Friday night." At her skeptical look he pleaded, "We can ignore each other there as well as we can here and it will be a hell of a lot quieter which will definitely help my headache." The band started up again proving his point.

That made sense. She nodded and they drained their beers and went in search of their friends to let them know they were leaving. Peggy was delighted that they had hit it off and they didn't bother enlightening her with their true plans. They walked towards the diner in silence. Cam feeling a little ashamed, after all her outburst, while honest, hadn't been exactly polite. Booth was focused on making sure he didn't trip-after a couple hours of sitting his right foot was numb, and he knew from experience it would take a few more uncomfortable minutes before full feeling returned. When they arrived a disinterested waitress motioned them towards a corner booth and tossed a couple of sticky menus on the table. The waitress returned a few moments later and grudgingly filled their coffee mugs, huffing when Cam asked for decaf and he ordered coffee and apple pie ala mode.

Booth waited till she was out of earshot before commenting drily, "Ah, that's what I've missed about Philly - friendly service and brotherly love." Cam was about to reply when she noticed the server stomping back with his pie and the check which were both placed none too gently on the table. They both took an extreme interest in the table top rather than risk eye contact and laughter while the server was in range. He took a bite of the pie and declared, "Thankfully their baker is better at their job than the server is." She started to dig in her purse and he held up his hand, "Sorry, no need to leave already, I'll go back to ignoring you as promised."

She looked puzzled and then let out a short laugh, "Don't mean to disappoint you, not leaving yet, just thought you might like a couple of these." She produced a small bottle of Advil.

"If we hadn't already agreed that this relationship is going nowhere, I would be tempted to kiss you." He shook out a couple, dry swallowed them and handed the bottle back to her. "Thank you."

"No problem." She sipped her coffee and studied him. If her life was different she might be tempted to kiss HIM, but she wasn't in a good place right now. Somehow she got the feeling, neither was he. "And I'm ok talking if you are."

He shrugged, "Might make the hour go faster. So, what do you want to talk about?" He internally winced a little after the words left his mouth, he really wasn't in the mood for small talk.

She thought for a moment, go with small talk or since this was definitely a 'one and done', satisfy her curiosity. He hadn't seemed to be put off by her blunt rejection, was attractive, and all the guys she'd met through Peg and Matt had been nice enough even if sparks had never flown. "So, what's the deal with you?"

Well that was an open ended question. Not sure what to say he deflected, "Nothing terribly interesting."

She narrowed her gaze, "Not sure that I believe that."

"Why?"

She sipped her coffee before replying, "I've known Peg for four years. Since she started dating Matt 2 years ago, she's been on a non stop match making mission." She gave a wry grin, "Peg wants everyone to be as happy as she is. Anyway as a result, I've pretty much met all of Matt's friends at least once, this is the first time I've met you even though I've heard your name in tales of varsity basketball exploits. So, either you've been out of town or off the market. But, for some reason I don't think it's the second, and I get the feeling that wherever you've been, you haven't had the standard college experience of classes and keggers. " At his questioning look, she shrugged, "Even though you're the same age as the guys you seem older. Am I right?"

He smiled at her assessment, this could be an entertaining hour. "Maybe. If I tell you my story, you gonna tell me yours? "

"Depends."

"On what?"

She smiled, "On how interesting your story is."

He took a bite of pie, chewed slowly and contemplated. "Okay, challenge accepted. Yeah, the guys and I were basketball teammates. I headed off to State College on a scholarship, red shirted freshman year, career ending injury in practice the second year. Good bye scholarship and girlfriend who decided that dating Seeley Booth wasn't as interesting as dating number 23." He shrugged, "No big loss there. Shoulder recovered enough to shoot a gun but not a basketball, so I joined the army. Got shipped off to Iraq, was injured in February. Have spent the last few months recovering. Currently taking independent study to a criminal justice degree, when I turn in the paper I SHOULD be finishing tonight I'll have 10 classes left. But it will be another couple of years before I finish since I'm heading back to Fort Benning in September to pass the training program and re-join the Rangers. Till then, I'm working part time as a filing clerk with the VA, which is boring as hell and the captain in charge is definitely not a people person, but hey, it's only temporary, and you go where the army tells you, and the hours let me study and workout. Living with my family in South Philly." He sipped his coffee, "Interesting enough?"

"Well, it's more interesting than mine, I'll give you that."

"Oh, I doubt that," he replied mildly.

"What makes you think so?" In spite of herself she was intrigued. There were obviously a lot of interesting details left out of his recitation. Yet rather than take advantage of an opportunity to elaborate he was turning the tables. Most guys were more than happy to talk about themselves. But, she reasoned, most guys would have stayed at the club.

He caught her musing look so answered her question, "You and Peg likely rushed the sorority together, so you should have graduated with her. But, you said you were finishing homework, so either that was a lie to spare my feelings, which given what you told me before we left the club, I doubt, or you didn't have enough credits to graduate. The reasons for not graduating on time are either choosing your major too late, partying too much or something interupted your studies. Since you definitely don't seem to have a problem deciding what you want, I doubt it's either of the first two. " He sipped, "You also have the much too young to feel this old vibe about you."

"Observant one aren't you?"

"I try. So, how'd I do?"

She gave a small smile, "Pretty good. I got behind last quarter, took a few weeks off to be with my mom in New York. She died of cancer in May. Profs gave me incompletes rather than failing me, with the condition that I finish up by the end of July. Even if they didn't give me deadline, I need to finish up because as of September first I'm joining the training class at the NYPD academy and I need the degree - bachelors is required even though my major doesn't exactly relate to law enforcement. " At his questioning glance, "It's pre-med."

"I'm sorry about your mom. Is she the reason you're changing course?"

"Thanks. " She took a deep breath as if to gather her composure, "Yeah. The last few weeks I came to the conclusion that while I've got the interest in medicine, I don't have the psyche to deal with patients or their families and research doesn't interest me, so had to come up with a plan B."

He thought about all the doctors he'd dealt with in the past few months. "I get it."

She smiled at that, "Then you're in the minority. If I had a nickel for everyone who's told me I'm crazy in the last couple of months I'd be set for life. So, a lot of experience with doctors?"

"Enough." He didn't want to talk about it, so time for deflection, "But why a cop?"

She caught the change in topic but understood. Sometimes you just got tired of dealing with your own crap. She had noted the cautious way he moved on the walk over, definitely not the easy grace of a college athlete, and if he was still recovering five months later whatever happened had been bad. She shrugged, "It's kind of the family business. My dad, an uncle and two cousins are on the force. " She gave a wry grin, "If I wasn't a girl, no one would have ever expected me to do anything else."

"I know how that goes." At her raised eyebrows, "The army is kinda the Booth family business."

"Ahh. So if you had gotten your degree would you have been a major disappointment to them?"

He laughed, "Not exactly. Pops was pretty excited about the scholarship." He clarified, "My grandfather."

"What about your parents?"

He took a bite of pie, "Um, they aren't exactly in the picture. Pops has raised me and my kid brother for the past 10 years."

She got the hint that was another topic of conversation that he didn't want to pursue. Still she was curious, "So is Pops the guy that will lecture you on how you should be spending your Friday night?"

He smiled, "Yeah. The only reason I went out tonight is that Matt called while I was still at work so they arranged everything. " He shook his head, "I think me being underfoot is cramping his social life, Jared usually has a date or a game so he's been used to having Friday nights on his own. "

She smiled at that, "Well, makes sense then that you didn't want to go home early. I think the only thing worse than interrupting your roommate making out would be to catch your grandpa in the act."

He shuddered at the mental image. "Oh God. Yeah, that would be WAY more of Mildred Fields than I want to contemplate. I think now I need to stay out another half hour just to be safe."

She couldn't help but laugh at his horrified expression. She also found that she didn't mind the idea of the evening being extended. She glanced around for the server to indicate she'd like a refill. Again avoiding eye contact as the waitress acted like she was doing them a huge favor by pouring coffee. After they were alone he said, "So you're going to hang out with me a little while longer?"

She nodded over the cup, "I have to. There's no way I can sleep until I get the image of half naked senior citizens out of my head. So, really, what the hell happened to the Sixers in the second round of the playoffs?"

He grinned both at the thought of her company and the opportunity to talk sports. They launched into a spirited discussion about what moves the team needed to make in the off season. They moved onto other sports, who really had the best cheese steaks in the city and what the best variety of TastyKakes truly was. Sometime in their discussion the waitress gave up and just dropped off a carafe at the table. When the pot was empty they were both shocked to find that it was after midnight. Leaving a generous tip they left the diner, walking slowly. He because his damn foot was numb again and she had noticed the careful way he'd stood and didn't want to rush him.

"Can I give you a ride?" He asked, "My car is just over at the club."

"My place isn't far. I can walk." Sensing he was about to protest, "I'm leaving for the police academy in a few weeks. No way I can think about patrolling in the Bronx if I'm afraid to walk a few blocks."

"I don't doubt you can take care of yourself."

"But?" she challenged.

"Gentleman remember?"

"So, I'll offend your delicate sensibilities if I refuse?"

"Something like that."

"Well, can't have that." He led her to his Mustang. "Nice car" she said approvingly then frowned at the sizeable dent in the front fender of the passenger side. "Ouch, what happened here?"

"Oh. Jared was driving it while I was gone. Haven't had time to fix it yet."

She wondered why his little brother hadn't fixed it himself but decided that fell into the none of her business category. She climbed in and a few minutes later they were at her place. He started to get out to walk her to the door and then caught her glare. "I think I can manage the 50 feet to the front door Seeley."

"Booth" he corrected, "and sorry, old habit Camille."

"Cam. " She smiled, as she opened the car door, "and thanks. Turned out to be a nice evening."

"Yeah it did." He found himself wishing that they hadn't already said this was it. He wasn't in the market for a girl friend at this point in his life, but he really had enjoyed talking with her. He stuck his hand out, "Nice to have met you Cam."

She exited the car and then reached back in to shake his hand. "You too, Booth." She shut the door, but on impulse turned and leaned back in the open window. "When I'm not home I can usually be found in the study carrels on the third floor of the library. If your Pops needs some alone time we can ignore each other again."

He grinned, "Tuesday is canasta night. Around six? We can study for a while and then you can try and convince me that Genos steaks are better than Pats?"

"I'll be in the library. See you then."


End file.
